Rings
by Seth Roselti
Summary: On his sixteenth birthday, Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia, receives an unusual gift from his brother: an Altorienese prisoner of a finished war who calls himself "Leon." With the passing of time, however, Emil realizes there might be more to his pet than meets the eye and slowly falls into a twisted, inescapable love.
1. His Gift

_This is not a pleasant story. As labeled by the mature rating, the themes involved might not be suitable for adolescents. You have been notified. _

_And without further ado, let us begin._

* * *

**Chapter 1: His Gift**

Despite it being early summertime, a light snowfall covers the kingdom of Crodinia on the prince's sixteenth birthday. He made it clear the week before that he does not want visitors coming to the castle to save him the trouble of remembering their names and titles; however, the king wants to make an example of his kingdom and have an excuse to drink and feast—mostly to drink and feast.

As the lines of carriages and horses ride in with the royal passengers, the prince stares out from his balcony and loses himself in thought, the names of kingdoms slipping off his tongue.

"The Unity of Dotriba," he murmurs as recognized by the bold triad of black, blue, and gold, all noble and powerful colors belonging to an even more powerful union.

"The Alliance of Thursaunia," he then recognizes by the recently changed banner under the marriage of a king and queen from neighboring and allying kingdoms. Their new flag bears a rugged stallion with the gallant wings of an eagle. While not the most intimidating of banners, the new Kingdom of Thursaunia is strong enough to hold its peace against Dotriba, and that alone is worthy of respect for its winged horse.

"The United Kingdom of Tabrini." A collection of four provinces rule under a single family; each province is overseen by one of four brothers. Its naval forces are as impressive as is its conquest of neighboring islands, expanding its influence across the ocean. That even one of the ruling brothers is attending his party is considered to be a great honor.

"Belethren," he easily names for the king's strong alliance with its ruler. It is also because of their kingdom that their alliance with Tabrini still stands.

"And…" He frowns when he sees the last royal flag waving like a ghost's sheet in the summer snow's flurries. The ends are tattered, and the flag bearer cannot be more than a peasant. Dragging behind the flag bearer are a few worn and tired men carrying a cart so shambled that it does not even have windows in its sides.

The prince is honestly surprised some of them have even made an attendance in the winter-ridden lands of Crodinia, the kingdom of the cold north. After the murder of its last emperor and pillage of the remaining heirs, this is the last place a representative of the fallen kingdom should be.

"Altorien."

* * *

"It's an honor to have all of you today in my grand halls, everyone!" the loud king smiles and greets his fellow neighbors with open arms and open doors. "As you know, today is my brother-in-law's sixteenth birthday, an important milestone, as he is officially an adult!"

"Here, here!" the halls ring. The prince twists his lips together and wants to look away, but his brother is watching him like a hawk. He needs to be on his best behavior in front of everyone, and so, instead he smiles and waves welcomingly to his guests.

"And without making this welcome too long, let us travel to the great halls to feast on this wonderful day!"

The prince watches as the king rises and leads his guests to the great halls where the tables are piled high with meats, breads, wine, and freshly imported produce from the warmer lands. The prince's brother, the king's husband and second-in-command of Crodinia, follows closely behind his king and takes the prince's hand.

In the halls, the kings and queens chatter about everything but politics: the health of their lands' crops, dueling, a comical fire prank set in a stable, and one instance involving sticking fish in a jester's trousers. The prince tries his best to listen and follow these conversations, as he understands he will one day have to produce his own interesting tales to tell. Occasionally he shares some information about how he has taken up riding or wants to travel across the seas, but other than that, he has little to offer in light of the older kings' and queens' adventures.

Sensing how uncomfortable he becomes, the prince's brother excuses himself and takes his brother out to the courtyard for a breather.

"How is everything, dear little brother?" he asks him as they walk along the stone paths dusted with a fine coating of snow.

The prince takes a while to respond, his heart heavy and his stomach stuck between deciding whether he is hungry or sick.

"Terribly," he finally speaks out. He is never dishonest with his brother. He never tells a lie. Born into royalty with only his brother as his life-long companion, he is the only one he ever trusts and obeys without hesitation. If he tells his brother of a problem, his brother will provide the solution.

"Why are you feeling so ill on your sixteenth birthday?" his brother asks, running a hand over his fair snow-white hair to comfort him. The prince lazily closes his eyes to absorb the gentle sensation of his brother's touch. He is never fond of anyone touching him save for his brother alone. When his nerves are loosened, he tells his brother of his predicament.

"I don't know if I can do this." He sweeps his arm towards the arch leading back to the great hall. "All this socializing and parties…it's not me, brother. I don't know any of these people, and I don't want to. I don't like them."

His brother sighs and plants a gentle kiss atop his head. "Sweet little brother, it is all a part of being a king. In the event that Mathias and I are not here to rule, you have to take responsibility and keep your alliances. Socializing is an important part of it, and the sooner you understand that, the better."

The prince blinks away the flurries from his lavender orbs. "But even then, I never see you speak to lengths with the king." He closes his eyes when his brother cups his cheeks and kisses him again.

"That is because I am his shadow to his light. If he needs the support, I will be there for him. If there are those who doubt him, it is my job to convince them otherwise. And if his body longs for comfort, I provide him with that. That is the duty of someone married to a king. You will understand that one day, little brother."

At his words, the prince leafs through his memories and remembers the instances when his brother supported his husband. In times when they were warring, his brother's intellect and solid grasp of strategy helped them push back invaders and contain their lands. When the king's own council doubted his aloof nature and easygoing demeanor, his brother stepped in and told them of how much his people loved their king and his strong, unrelenting heart. As for his body, the prince does not have to recall any specific moment in time. There are plenty of nights when he wakes up to the sounds of his brother and the king making mad love to each other in their chambers.

The brothers remain outside for a short period of time before deciding to rejoin their king in the halls. On their way, the prince's brother quizzes him on the banners of the guests to pass the time. The prince remembers all of them, but when he arrives at the last one he remembers, his voice falls into a whisper.

"Altorien," he says. "Brother, why are they here? I thought that we—"

"Whether friend or foe, your birthday was meant to be a celebration of the peace that we've finally achieved," his brother cuts him off. "And considering you've reached adulthood, the celebration is bigger. We are not welcoming them as enemies. The war is over. They are ours now."

His brother, the prince notices, never uses the word "ally" to describe them, and he can understand why: after being a rising power for so long, the emperor of Altorien once threatened to swallow the other kingdoms until a grand gathering of several rulers rose up and fought against the emperor's armies. After many bloody years of fighting, the royal family in Altorien was executed, and the last of its reign ended. With all of Altorien scattered into small, confused groups, the rest of the kingdoms tore the empire apart piece by piece like vultures ripping off the flesh of a rotting carcass. Many people were enslaved and converted within the conquering kingdoms until Altorien was only mentioned in history as a dead empire with a fruitless purpose. The prince was twelve years old when news arrived that the emperor of Altorien had been dethroned and killed by Crodinian forces.

For the prince to see an Altorien flag, however, must mean there are still people who are loyal to the old empire and family. Even if it is just a peasant, the prince finds it strange that the king will have granted him passage into their castle. While strong and brave, the king has never been too sharp on the intellectual side. The prince wonders if perhaps he wants to show the Altorienese how grand Crodinia can be.

"Speaking of the Altorienese, I have a surprise for you, dear brother."

"A surprise?" the prince repeats, wondering what his brother can possibly give him on an important birthday; he usually ends up giving him something practical like a cloak from Tabrini or a knife carved with steel forged in Thursaunia. Thinking about it makes him excited. After being so preoccupied with his previous studies about the neighboring kingdoms, a present is something he looks forward to receiving. There is no doubt that whatever it is, it will be something wonderful.

With the promise of getting a surprise, the prince's spirits stay in tact for the rest of the evening until the night grows old and the cooks are too exhausted to continue cooking. The wine cellars are nearly empty, and the royal guests withdraw into their provided and guarded chambers for the night. The great hall falls silent, and outside, the snowfall blankets the castle grounds with a fresh new sheet of white.

The young prince is not tired like the rest of the castle, however. His eyes are still bright even as the last of the departing guests bid him good fortune and prosperity. He thanks them for the wonderful day and for travelling such a great distance to visit their kingdom. His presents lay opened and carefully moved to designated spots around the castle, some being displayed in the courtyards, others mounted on walls specifically for allying kingdoms, and others in his own chambers like a glass lamp blown and crafted with the intricate patterns of an ice crystal.

Out of all the gifts, the prince enjoys his new lamp the most. Not only does it look beautiful in the candlelight, it is a gift from his distant uncle who reigns in another part of Crodinia, bringing it some sentimental value. Before retiring for the night, he gazes upon the ice crystal patterns that dance in his chamber walls. With its blues and whites and pinks, he feels at ease looking at the display. His eyes are so lost in his new lamp that he nearly fails to hear his brother opening his door and letting himself inside.

"Brother, come with me," he says in a quiet voice so as not to disturb the royal guests.

The prince turns over his shoulder and remembers his brother has not given him his gift yet.

"I know it's late, but I wanted to give you your gift before your birthday was over," he whispers. "You have to be very quiet so we do not wake the guests. We have to make a small journey. In order to retrieve your gift, we are going to go into the dungeon."

A chill runs through the prince's body when the destination is named. Of all the places, he hates the dungeon the most. It is a cold, dark place unlike any other in the castle, and on windy nights, the corridors howl with ghostly moans that haunt his memories.

"Why the dungeons?" he wearily asks.

"Because that is where your present is," his brother tells him, petting his head and stroking his cheek with a reassuring caress. "We could not put it anywhere else. Someone would have found it and taken it away. You can be brave, little brother. You are sixteen now." He kisses his forehead and rubs his shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," the prince softly answers. His voice is so soft that it can barely register as a whisper. He is afraid, but as an adult, now, he needs to build up his courage. It is not as if he is going alone; his brother will be there, and he is sure there will be several guards manning the posts underground. He can be brave.

* * *

The dungeon resides deep underneath the castle chambers on the far end of the west. While there are multiple openings, the main entrance resides in what can be considered a forgotten portion of the castle that only the most dangerous of convicts go to. The prince once questioned why anyone would allow the most dangerous people in the kingdom to be so close to the king. His brother replied by telling him that it is important to keep one's friend's close but one's enemies closer.

To the prince's relief, they are escorted by four guards walking on all sides. They descend through multiple flights of stairs that spiral downward until they reach leveled ground. The temperature down in this place is exceedingly colder than the prince's chambers, and he wishes he brought something more than a simple robe.

The prince's brother moves through the dungeon's bars, never flinching at the soft moaning of the prisoners of war and crime. The prince wishes to hold his hand as he did in the past, but he reminds himself that he is sixteen today. So as long as his brother is here, however, he already feels invincible.

"Stop here," the prince's brother says and holds up a hand to halt the guards. He turns to the left and stares ahead. The prince does the same. In front of them, there is a faint flickering light of a candle. In this darkness, it looks like the brightest star, and the prince cannot help but feel drawn to its source. His brother walking alongside him, he approaches the light until someone else comes into view. His heart nearly stops when he sees who it is: the flag bearer of Altorien.

"Open it," the prince's brother orders. Behind him, there is a heavy wooden door that the Altorienese man wordlessly opens. The prince's throat runs dry with anticipation. What is it, he wonders? A magnificent weapon, perhaps? A great magic scroll that needs to be contained away from sunlight? Or maybe even a young fire-breathing dragon that he can call his own?

Alas, his imagination gets the better of him. As soon as the door opens, a foul, indescribable stench wafts out and stings the prince's eyes. Unable to help himself, he holds his sleeve to his nose and gasps for air. Whatever is in there is most likely something he does not want to see. Suddenly, fear overtakes him. With the light being dim, he cannot see beyond the darkness that cloaks the entrance. Something shuffles inside its depths and sets the prince on edge.

Without warning, the prince's brother places his hands around his shoulders and starts to whisper. It is all the prince can do to suppress a startled scream from echoing in the dungeon.

"You may only pick _one_. One, and that is all."

"One what?" the prince wants to ask, but his voice is lost in his gut. He chooses to trust his brother for leading him this far. Whatever lies within cannot be dangerous. His brother would never think of putting his life into jeopardy. The object that lies beyond this door cannot hurt him. Eventually, he gathers his courage and walks carefully inside the darkness beyond the door.

The stench is even more unbearable than before. The prince continues to keep his sleeve over his nose as he looks around, hoping his eyes will adjust to the darkness before he stumbles. When he walks a good five paces into the room, he turns back and sees his brother intently watching him at the entrance. His unrelenting stare offers the prince some comfort, as he knows he is not alone. He continues walking around until his foot hits something mid-step.

The prince stops. The object he kicked is firm yet soft. And that is not all. Even here in these desolate depths, it is _warm_. It is _alive. _

Then, he hears a cough. A human cough. The prince gasps and accidentally swallows a breath full of the awful smell. He quickly covers his mouth to keep from retching.

There are people in this room.

"Hold out the light," the prince hears his brother casually say. "I don't think he can see very well in there." The man sticks his hand in the room with the single candle, and while the light is faint, he can see the contents of the room.

Eyes after eyes stare hard at the light with death glazed over. The orbs' owners have thin limbs and spider legs for fingers. Their nails are uncut and overgrown like savage cats, and their skin hugs their bones and flesh like shriveled fruit peelings left out in the baking sun. The main features the young prince can make out on all of them is what disturbs him most of all, not their frightened expressions, not the pools of urine and feces they cower in, not the rotting smell of death waiting to pluck their little heads off their necks. These are all Altorienese boys.

"Best not to dwindle, brother," the prince hears from behind. "You don't want the smell sticking to your clothes. Hurry it up, so we can go to bed."

The prince does not know how to respond to that. His mind races as he scans over the boys. Some appear as young as eight years old. Others look like they are in their late teens. He does not know for what purpose he is choosing one. Is the one he selects supposed to be weak? Submissive? Attractive?

"Brother, I'm waiting."

The prince painfully swallows and searches with whatever composure he still has. As he approaches some of them for a better look, the boys shy away from him like frightened, cold pups taken from their mothers. Then again, with them being Altorienese children, he suspects they no longer have mothers.

He honestly does not know how to pick. Whatever cruel intent this is, he does not enjoy the responsibility of selecting any of these individuals. They are filthy, frightened creatures. He cannot even be bothered to call them human with the way they withdraw from the light. His breath short and his head spinning, the prince tries to finish his survey and choose a boy from the collection.

"Oh, for gods' sakes," the prince's brother finally snaps in an impatient tone. "If you don't pick one, I will."

The prince tells his brother to give him some time. He should at least have the luxury of picking his own present. However, with the light being faint, he is still indecisive. He is about to give up and let his brother pick someone after all when his eyes almost skip over an individual kneeling in the back.

There is something about this one that draws him in. His skin is not as flawed as the others, and his dark brown hair sweeps lower than the other boys' in an almost feminine fashion. And his _eyes_. The prince has never seen such a color before. Even for an Altorienese, this must be a rare trait. The boy's irises are a striking shade of pure gold that glows even in the faint light. He likes the way his almond-shaped eyes slant slightly upward and the deep pink of his lips. The only trait slightly off about him is the thickness of his eyebrows, but the prince can only be so choosy when all of the others are unappealing. After looking over this boy for a few more seconds, the prince tells his brother that he has made his selection. He wants this boy.

"I pick this one."

"This one," the prince's brother echoes and scans him from his head to his feet. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the prince nods. "This one."

"Very well. He is yours."

Unsure if he heard that correctly, the prince blinks. "Mine?"

"Your pet," his brother elaborates. "You may do whatever you want with him. Dress him, walk him, beat him." The prince refrains from making a face at that last one. "He will be your responsibility. I am not going to replace him with another if he dies. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Happy birthday, little brother."

"Th-Thank you…" he quietly stammers as he stares apprehensively at his brother's gift. The entire time, the boy says nothing and does nothing. His head bows towards the ground as most Altorienese are accustomed to. Had he been upright, he might be as tall at him. The prince thinks that is the last of his brother's words until he stops and turns to his new pet.

"And you," he says. "Do you understand Crodinian?"

The boy does not move a muscle. The prince's brother sighs and changes his attention to the Altorienese man holding the candle. "Translate this for me," he orders and begins to speak. All the while, the man speaks in what the prince can only assume is Altorienese.

"If I so much as see one scratch on my brother or one tear fall from his eyes, I am going to make you wish you were never born. You Altorienese aren't the only ones famous for their methods of torture. We have ways of keeping you alive even when all the skin is peeled off your body and your limbs are crushed and eaten away at until you are nothing. But. A. Stump."

The prince is silent. He saw these methods of torture when the war was nearing its end. His brother and the king made him watch as traitors and prisoners of war were beaten, flogged, skinned, and slowly bled to death as a cruel reminder of what happens when people declare an attack on Crodinia. Even if they are the worst people in the world, the prince cannot imagine ever wishing that type of suffering on anyone.

All the while, the prince's brother continues. "You are to obey my brother at all costs. If he believes you should be punished, you will take it without a word. You will be his shield in the event he might be harmed. You are disposable to him, and you are disposable to me. I am the king's husband. My word rises above my brother's. If I believe you are not fit to be my brother's pet, I will have you killed. If my husband, the king, wants that, so be it. Do you understand?"

When the Altorienese translator finishes speaking, the boy soundlessly nods, never looking at the prince or his brother.

"Good. We're leaving now. Little brother, don't fall behind and lose him in the dungeon. He won't find his way out if you do."

"Yes, brother," the prince says and signals for his pet to follow closely behind him. He does not offer his hand to the boy, as his palms are caked with dirt, grease, and what appears to be old blood. He is not even sure if the blood on his hands is his.

When they exit the dungeon through the stairwell, the prince feels relieved to finally have some crisp, fresh air again. He looks back at his pet to make sure he is not exhausted from climbing the stairs, and when he sees his expression is as blank as before, he leads him towards the bathhouse to cleanse him of the grime and foreign particles off his body. The prince finds late-night servants and orders them to prepare a bath for the Altorienese boy while he goes off to find his brother who has since gone off elsewhere.

The prince eventually finds his brother also preparing for a bath in the royal bathhouse that was separately built from the one used for guests. He eagerly takes his clothes off and tosses them aside, exposing his pale, creamy skin that his husband loves to fondle so much.

"Um, brother…?" the prince hesitantly calls to him as he sits on the edge. As his brother resurfaces from the hot waters, he cannot help taking off his boots and soaking his feet to soothe his bones.

As he sits, his brother goes over to him and brings his hands out to his feet. He massages them and, with a wet cloth, wipes between his toes until they are free of dirt.

"What did you come here for?" he asks as he immerses himself back in the water. "You should be watching over your pet. He is your responsibility, remember?"

"I know," the prince says. "I was just..." He struggles to find the word. "Confused?"

"Why should you be? You're an adult, and before that, you were a decently responsible boy. Your pet should not give you any trouble."

That is not what the prince is concerned about. "Why an Altorienese boy?"

His brother runs some water over his blonde hair and cleans his face. The prince waits for him to finish before continuing.

"I thought you'd like something different," he says. "You've told me you've grown tired of seeing the same boring faces, so I thought having an Altorienese pet would be something to brag about."

The prince blinks. "Is that all you see him as? A different breed of pet?"

"And soon to be rare."

"Rare?" The prince frowns. "But what about all those other boys in the dungeon?"

"They're prisoners, and not very good ones, I have to admit," the prince's brother spits with distaste. "I asked for the best, too. I don't want to think about what the worst were like. They'll just be a waste of space and resources. In any case, brother, you don't have to worry about them. I've ordered the soldiers to kill them."

The prince's blood runs cold. His heart sinks into his chest at those words. All the others he did not pick are going to die. He could have saved someone else, but instead, he chose that singular boy just because he looked different. Now he knows why his brother said he cannot replace his pet—there will be no others to replace him with.

Another thought disturbs him. "Who was that man in there? The translator?"

His brother almost looks amused. "You're quite the curious one over the background of your pet's former empire."

Embarrassed, the prince's cheeks grow red, and his head hangs. "I'm sorry," he shamefully apologizes.

"Don't be. I didn't tell you about it, so it's only natural you have questions." He explains, "The man was charged with bringing Altorienese across the empire and into safe places all over the kingdoms."

The prince's posture straightens. "So, in other words, he was a sai—"

"Traitor. He's going to be executed with the rest of the boys later tonight." The prince's brother casually yawns as if the matter is as trivial as signing a document. "I'd have them do it in the morning, but the king wants to go hunting with some of the others. I'll need to wake up early tomorrow."

"I-I see…"

His brother rises from the steaming water, his body glistening and steaming from the heat contrasting against the cold. He approaches his brother and digs his wet fingers into his silvery locks. The prince closes his eyes when he feels his brother's warm breath on his cheek.

"Ah, little brother…" he sighs, softly smiling. "Do not worry about it. Think of this as your first step to seeing if you are fit to rule. This is a perfect gift for you."

"Then why didn't you have any…pets?" The last word tastes foreign on his tongue. He wonders if he should use that word when addressing his gift.

"Silly little brother," he chuckles. "I have you to dote over now and always."

"Oh." The prince falls quiet.

His brother pats his head. "You should go take a bath, too. It's been a long day, and the trip to the dungeon must have left some stench on you. Go wash up. Perhaps you can teach your pet how to bathe properly. I doubt there are any male servants to attend to him at this hour of the night."

"Yes, brother," the prince obediently nods and takes his leave. He removes his feet from the water, shudders at the brief cold spell, puts his boots on, and leaves his brother to bathe in peace.

* * *

When the prince returns to the guest bathhouse, the water is already prepared with the strongest herbs and minerals the servants can provide. He dismisses the servants, as they are women, and finds his gift sitting idly where he left him.

"Hey, um," he starts, "the bath is ready for you. You need to take off your clothes, so you can wash yourself off."

The boy makes no attempt to respond. Sighing, the prince remembers the language barrier between the two of them. While there are similar language roots in nearly every neighboring kingdom, Altorien has its own unique language and writing system that differs from Crodinian entirely. The prince will have to teach this boy how to understand Crodinian if he is to give him any commands or talk to him. Until then, he has to settle with taking care of things with actions.

"I'll just take off your clothes, then," he says and reluctantly makes a grab at the boy's paper-thin tunic. Immediately after his fingers touch him, the boy yanks his body away and holds tightly onto his clothes. The prince's eyes grow wide when he sees what sort of reaction the boy makes: defiance. He is not afraid of getting his clothes removed; rather, he does not _want_ his clothes removed.

"Remove your clothes," he commands, using a firm tone of voice to assert himself. "If you don't, I'll have you publicly stripped and whipped."

He feels both foolish and guilty for saying those things. For one, he does not want to see the boy stripped naked and flogged, nor does he believe the boy can understand his Crodinian. With a heavy heart and a heavier spirit, he makes another attempt at the boy's clothes. This time, the boy does not pull away however hesitant he is about letting someone else touch him.

After some persuasion and patience, the prince manages to remove the boy's hands and strip off his tunic. Underneath, the boy's ribs are showing through his light olive skin, and his stomach line is thin and shrunk. Despite that, the prince can recognize muscles when he sees them. The boy's abdominal area still betrays sculpted muscles where they should otherwise be flat. Even his arms are noticeably thick around the bicep areas for someone who was taken prisoner. He must have been a hard laborer, the prince believes as he kneels down and carefully undoes his pet's trousers.

"Easy," he softly whispers when he detects some resistance. The boy's legs squeeze together to prevent him from pulling his trousers down. The prince tries to be patient with him. He can only imagine how he must be feeling, being brought to a foreign land, traded off as a pet, and being stripped by another man. The prince, seeing that it is pointless to force his pet, decides to make an example of himself.

He stands back up and juts his pet's chin to face him. "Look at me," he orders and stares into his golden eyes, making sure to never face away from him. He slowly starts to undo his robe and loosens the ties. When the belts are removed, he slides his robe off and begins removing his tunic. A cool breeze engulfs his skin, and he faintly shudders despite supposedly being adjusted to cold weather. Inside, the prince is embarrassed. He should not be exposing himself to his pet like this; it is something that should only be reserved for his closest servants. All the same, he makes an example of himself to show the boy it is alright to display to him his body. His cheeks growing warm, he loosens the strap around his trousers and leggings, casting aside the last of his garments.

"It's your turn," he says and hastily pulls his pet's hands away from his lower body. Disregarding the boy's silent protests, he yanks down his trousers and tells him to step into the water.

"Hurry before you catch a cold," he commands, keeping his eyes as fixated to the boy's face as much as possible. In truth, he wants to find something to cover the both of them up so they will not have to gaze upon each other's nakedness; however, the prince assumes the boy has never bathed in his life from the looks of him. It also should not matter by technicalities. Had his pet been a lion or a wolf, he would not be afraid of strutting bare-skinned around it. The prince will have to properly teach him how to bathe if he is to do it by himself one day. As he thinks of this, he remembers his brother's words. Rather than a pet, his brother had him to dote on, his little prince.

In that sense, he wants to try his best to pamper and raise this boy. His brother raised him well in the absence of their parents, and he became someone beautiful and humble, a figure loved by his people in the same regards the people of Crodinia love their king and his husband. The prince, he supposes, wants to turn his pet into someone beautiful, too, someone he can be proud of. His spirits and hopes high, he leads the boy to the tray of oils and sweet-scented soaps so he may cleanse him.

It is made clear in the first few attempts of scrubbing his skin that the boy is absolutely filthy. Dirt stubbornly clings to his skin like grease on old dishrags, and his hair is matted down with layers upon layers of grease, dandruff, and flecks of lice. At this rate, the prince wonders how peasants are able to cope with such an unsanitary lifestyle. He focuses his energy on cleaning his pet and scrubs vigorously until raw patches appear on the boy's skin.

The prince does not apologize, as he reminds himself that his gift is a pet and no longer considered human. "I have to clean you so you don't…ungh! Stink up the chambers…!" He takes a breather and sinks into the water, exhausted by exactly how much work is invested into bathing someone. His brother never complained when cleaning him, so he will not, either. Once he soaks his body into the herbal waters enough, he stands back up and pours oils over the boy's skin, hoping to combat the grease and fight his urine-caked stench.

Over time, the boy's smell fades, and the lice shed from his hair; his skin is rubbed raw and sore, though most of the dirt and grime is gone, and his face is clear and clean. The prince does not admit this out loud, but he finds the boy rather attractive now that he is cleansed. Give or take with some food in his belly and a few proper manners later, he will prove to be very handsome and likable. He clearly has a rugged appearance about him that the prince and his brother lack: his jaw is more defined and his muscles are atrophic but developed and shaped. The prince rather likes these qualities about his pet.

As he continues to inspect and observe his new pet, the prince's enthusiasm for his brother's gift grows. This might work after all, he thinks—a person to pamper and care for all on his own. He will teach him how to speak Crodinian and play chess. They will be able to talk about life in the castle while eating sweet cakes, and he will read fairytales to him. When the time comes, they will be able to ride together and even hunt alongside one another. And as the days grow shorter and the nights longer, the prince will have someone to keep him company indoors and cuddle next to by the fireplace. It will be like having a friend, but instead, this boy is his own property. It is like his brother said: he can do whatever he wants with him.

Their bathing finished, the prince leads his cleansed pet out of the bath and onto the carpeted floors. He first wraps a robe around himself and then his pet, making sure every part of him is dry so as not to catch the chill of the nightly cold. Once that is in order, he takes him out of the bathhouse and towards the sleepwear provided by the dismissed servants.

"Here," he says as he opens his pet's robes and hands him a set of sleepwear. "These are for you. Dress in them." To demonstrate, he dresses into his sleepwear and throws his damp robe on the floor.

"Dress," he repeats and orders. To his delight, the boy does the same and rather efficiently. At least he is not entirely hopeless. Because he has properly completed a task, the prince decides to give him some positive reinforcement.

"Very good," he chooses to say and smiles, a rare occurrence nowadays with his weighing responsibilities. The boy blinks and says nothing as he waits for another command.

Next, the prince decides it is time for bed. He tells his pet to follow him with a beckoning signal and walks off in the direction of his chambers. Again, he happily finds that the boy obediently follows him all the way to his chamber doors. Here, he tells his pet that this is where he will sleep from now on. With those words out of the way, he leads the boy inside and prepares him for bed.

"Since I am a virgin unlike my brother," he speaks while taking some covers from his bed, "the bed is not big enough for the two of us. You'll have to sleep on the ground." He realizes it is pointless talking to the boy right now, but he finds comfort in being able to freely converse with someone besides the wind and the walls.

"Here we are." He makes a crude attempt to fold his covers and set them over his rug so the boy will not have backaches in the morning. "Lie down," he orders and points to the sheets. The boy silently obeys and sits on the sheets. The prince almost smiles when he sees his pet running his fingers over the soft fabrics. He is like a quiet, yet observant dog but more intelligent and obedient. Since his pet is in position, he drapes the last of his covers over him and sets him on his back. Lastly, he tucks a pillow under his head and pats his head as he might a dog.

"Very good," he remembers to say and is about to retreat when something crucial comes to mind. "That's right. I need to call you something. Let's see…" He ponders over how to go about introducing himself to his new pet and decides to sit over him.

"My name is Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia." He points to his chest and repeats his first name. "Emil." He points again and repeats. "Emil." Then, he points to his pet and silently waits, hoping to get a response. It is cute the way the boy stares up at him from outside his covers. The only things he can see are his dark hair and slanted golden eyes that practically saved his life.

To the prince's disappointment, the boy does not answer with anything after being pointed at. He thinks he needs to try again when he suddenly speaks with a strain in his voice.

"L—" He abruptly pauses as if struggling to even make a sound. "Le…on."

The prince cocks his head and tries to make out the name. "Leon…?"

The boy nods with an alert glint in his eyes. So that is his name. Odd, though. Considering he is Altorienese, the prince believes he would have had an exotic and hard-to-pronounce name. He cannot complain, however. "Leon" is far easier to say than anything in Altorienese.

"Well, Leon, starting today, you are my pet." The prince chooses his words to not sound too overly arrogant or pompous. "I know you can't understand me, but if you listen to me, I will treat you well. You've made it this far." Leon does not say anything, and so the prince simply decides to bid him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Leon," he says and returns to his bed. He hears no response as expected from someone who cannot understand Crodinian and stares at the ceiling until he can fall asleep. Overhead, the colorful lights from his uncle's birthday gift dance on his ceiling and cast lovely shapes of snowflakes and ice crystals. It is truly a wonderful gift, but as his eyelids grow heavy and his breathing deepens, the prince thinks that in his entire life, his best birthday present is lying silently on the floor by his bedside and he belongs entirely to him.

* * *

_References for the kingdoms: _

_**Crodinia:** Anagram of "Nordic" + ia_

_**Altorien:** Anagram of "Oriental"_

_**Dotriba:** Anagram of "Bad trio"_

_**Thursaunia:** Anagram of "Austria" + "Hun"_

_**Tabrini:** Anagram of "Britain"_

_**Belethren:** Anagram of "Nether" + "Bel"_


	2. His Actions

**Chapter 2: His Actions**

Hunting bugles awake the prince before the crack of dawn, followed by men shouting and horses neighing off in the distance. The prince's eyelids flutter open, and he rises from his covers and stretches. He nearly jumps from his bed when a protruding lump under his spare covers rises and falls in heavy rhythm, stopping him in place. When he remembers he is sixteen years old, the prince sees his brother's birthday present and quietly hovers over his pet.

"You must've been through a lot," he mouths and watches his pet sleep for a moment before deciding it is best to get him into a steady habit of rising early. Today, he will have to teach him how to dress and eat properly, and if time allows it, he will teach him how to speak a few phrases in Crodinian. With his plans mapped out for the day, the prince rests a hand on the lump and gently shakes him.

"Leon," he whispers. "Leon, you need to wake up. Dawn is here."

The boy does not stir. The prince shakes him slightly harder and waits for some movement to occur. After some effort, his pet's eyes slowly open, revealing those dazzling golden pools of his.

The boy does not say anything when he arises from his sheets and rubs his eyes. While watching him, the prince notices how long and unsightly his fingernails are, and he suspects his toenails are the same. After being preoccupied with cleaning his skin and hair last night, he forgot all about his nails.

"Stay here," he tells him and goes to his drawers. He fishes out a pair of iron clippers used for trimming loose ends and kneels down besides the boy.

When he first sees the clippers, the boy grows uneasy. His motions are stiff, and his eyes rapidly blink and dart around the room. When the prince approaches him, he holds back and tries to lean as far back as he dares.

"It's alright," he gently speaks. "I'm not going to hurt you if you stay still." Even so, the boy is not having any of it. Sighing, the prince decides this is one of those instances similar to swimming. He remembers when his brother first taught him how to swim; he had been afraid of the water, believing it would hurt him, but when his brother went inside unharmed, it gave him the courage to go in after him.

The prince supposes he has to make an example of himself. This is good, he thinks. It is like a small step towards ruling. A good prince with good examples can set the same for his kingdom and his subjects. "Here," he says and holds out his fingernails that are neatly trimmed, but he knows he needs to show his pet exactly what his clippers are used for. "You just do this." He takes the clippers and clips a small piece of his fingernails off and brandishes his unharmed fingers.

"See? It doesn't hurt. I'm going to trim yours now." He holds out his hand and expects his pet to give him his hand. The patience required on his part is something he really does not want to invest in, but Leon is his responsibility now. If his brother could do it, so can he.

"It's alright," he coaxes. His hand remains open and inviting. After staring at his master for some time, Leon finally hands him his palm, albeit clammy and shaky.

"You need to hold still while I do this," the prince says with intent focus. "It doesn't look like you've trimmed your nails before, so I'll have to be extra careful." He makes a soft shushing noise as he begins with his pet's left thumb. As expected but not delightful, his nails are coarse and thick. It takes a great deal of effort for him to finally chip away at the first cut before gauging just how much strength he will need.

"This will take longer than I thought," he mumbles and sets to work until he finishes an entire hand. At this point, he decides it is time for his pet to try. He hands Leon his clippers and motions for him to trim the fingernails on his right hand. There is some hesitation, but after some time, his pet manages to take the clippers into his hands and starts with his right thumb. The prince is delighted.

"Very good," he smiles and watches him work. There are instances when he fears his pet will accidentally slip and cut himself, but his fingers prove to be very dexterous and careful despite their callousness. Soon, both sets of fingernails are trimmed. Now they may finish his toenails so he can properly wear boots.

"Now the toes," the prince says and takes his pet's covers all the way off. He points to his toenails that are riddled with cracks and chips and gestures for his pet to clip those, too.

Without any other words or help, the boy manages to clip all ten of his toenails until they are all clean. The prince smiles and offers him positive verbal reinforcement before patting him on the head.

"Very good," he says and takes the clippers away. He shows his pet where he keeps them and tucks them back into their designated drawer. "Now we can dress."

The prince notices that when his pet stands upright with his head facing forward, they are roughly the same height. This will make fitting him into clothes easier, since it means being able to share a wardrobe, though the prince suspects his brother will strongly disapprove if he finds his pet wearing the same status of clothes as royalty. Still, the prince has not had the time to contact a tailor, so he can ride on the excuse that his pet needs clothes for a while.

With that, the prince goes over to his wardrobe and opens it, revealing an assortment of dark, cool-colored robes, tops, and tunics. He demonstrates how he dons his daily clothes and proceeds to hand his pet a set of clothing to see how fast he has learned. Leon easily manages to change out of his sleepwear and into his attire for the day, and this earns him another expression of praise. Since the two of them are dressed, they leave the prince's chambers and head towards the great hall for breakfast.

The prince and his pet encounter servants and foreigners from yesterday's party wandering around the corridors as they go to breakfast. Some stare at the prince or whispered in groups as they pass, while others wish the prince a good morning, and he returns the greeting.

"You should try to learn that, too," he thinks aloud and stops to teach his pet. "Good morning," he says to him. He has to think of some way to register it is a greeting to his pet and thinks about Altorienese customs. One such custom, he remembers, involves bowing; the Altorienese have a way of bowing to one another when they greet each other, he recalls. To test his recollection, he faces his pet and bows in front of him.

"Good morning," he says to him and waits for a response. The boy blinks, and returns the bow but does not say anything.

"No." The prince shakes his head. He props his pet's chin to face him and tries again. "Good morning," he repeats and bows. He then waits to see if his pet will do the same.

"Goo' mor'ing," he speaks in broken Crodinian. It is not the best pronunciation, but the prince understands Altorienese completely differs in dialect. He will have to teach his pet to pronounce his words correctly so as not to displease his brother and the king.

"Close enough. Very good, Leon." To reward him, he pats him on the head like a dog and tells him to trail after him. It is not long before they reach the great hall where most of the kings have gone out to hunt. The only formidable kings the prince recognizes are Roderich of Thursaunia and Francis, one of the three kings of Dotriba, both considered to be their own levels of refined, and it only makes sense that they have not joined the hunt with the others.

The prince's white hair, easily identifiable even in large crowds, draws attention to the kings, and they invite him to sit next to him, congratulating him of reaching adulthood and offering him wine.

"So you're finally sixteen, Emil," Francis warmly smiles as he pours himself a generous helping of wine. Of the three kings in Dotriba, Francis enjoys food and drink the most despite not growing fat and portly.

"Yes, Your Highness," the prince nods. All the while, his pet sits quietly alongside a wall, as he is not permitted to sit anywhere near the kings.

"Sixteen is a big year. You are old enough to reign over your own house, and you can travel without the aid of your family."

Roderich, after wiping his mouth, adds, "You can even marry if you want to."

The prince awkwardly smiles at the thought of marrying. "When the time comes that my brother finds someone suitable for me, I believe only then will I know who my bride is."

Francis clicks his tongue and heartily pats the young prince's back. "You don't have to listen to Lukas, Emil," he laughs. "You're an adult now. You can make your own decisions. And considering he's your king's husband, who's to say you have to marry a woman?"

The prince's face grows hot at the thought of having a husband. He has always wondered what his brother's and his king's romantic relationship is like behind those closed doors. His brother is never vocally pronounced when speaking to him or his subjects, and yet as soon as night falls and his husband joins him in bed, an entire chorus of unspeakable noises cries out from his lungs. Even so, the prince imagines he will have to take up a woman for a bride to please his brother and pass on the kingdom.

"Don't fill the boy with vulgar thoughts," Roderich snaps at Francis. He has never been too fond of the flirtatious king's bold ideals and prefers a traditional lifestyle. The fact that the king even has a husband still baffles him, but his wife, the queen, thinks otherwise.

"Ah, what would your darling Elizabeta say to that, Roddy?" Francis sighs and rests his elbows on the table.

The Thursaunian king wrinkles his nose and adjusts his spectacles. The prince has heard about his unusual relationship with his queen: while the king is classy and reserved, his wife, Elizabeta, is said to be robust, and open-minded. In fact, it just might be that she is not sitting beside her husband for breakfast because she is hunting with the other kings.

"Firstly, don't call me 'Roddy,' Frog," Roderich snaps at the Dotriban king. "Secondly, I assume my wife would be…" He sighs. "…open to whatever form of love Prince Emil chooses to accept."

"You see?" Francis smiles at the prince. "If Roddy's wife thinks it's fine, then it is fine."

"I thought I told you not to call me 'Roddy,' Frog."

"Would you like some wine, Emil?" the Dotriban king asks, ignoring the Thursaunian completely.

"Yes, please, Your Highness," the prince nods and holds his goblet out for the king to pour. While drinking, hot plates of food arrive at the table, and the kings' chatter falls into soft murmuring as they dine. The prince talks with the kings here and there, listening to their tales of love when his thoughts wander back to his pet at the mention of one of Francis' Altorienese lovers.

"Ah. Excuse me, Your Highnesses. I need to take care of something." He excuses himself from his seat, carrying an extra plate of food and utensils and wanders off in the direction of the wall. The kings curiously observe from their seats as they watch the young prince hand a dark-haired boy a fork. They cannot hear what the prince is saying to the boy, but they know enough that he is trying to teach the boy how to use the pitchfork-like utensil. The boy's fingers fumble a few times before being able to firmly grasp it in the correct hold. Then, the prince demonstrates how to eat using the fork until the boy manages to eat potatoes and steamed fish all on his own—and eat he can.

Like a hungry dog that was granted with a steaming, juicy leg of lamb, the boy ferociously digs into his plate and stuffs his mouth until bits of potato and corn stick to his lips and cheeks. The prince quickly stops the boy and hastily returns to the table to grab a napkin. He gives the kings an apologetic nod before returning back to the boy. The kings say nothing at this exchange and continue to watch the prince clean up the boy and ease him to slow down.

Finally, after what must be a painstaking ten minutes, the prince returns to his seat covered in stray food splatters from his shining tunic to his white hair.

Roderich wrinkles his nose in distaste and adjusts his spectacles once more. "You look filthy," he flatly remarks. "Is that how you do things here in Crodinia? Teaching mad servant boys how to eat and use table manners?"

Francis throws the Thursaunian a disapproving look before inquiring whom that boy is.

"I'm sorry about that," the prince apologizes and lowers his eyes to the table as a sign of humbling himself. "He is my brother's birthday gift to me."

Both kings exchange shocked but amused glances.

"He is a…servant?" Francis guesses.

"No, Your Highness. He is my pet."

"Your pet?" the kings echo.

"Yes. He is Altorienese."

"Huh." The Thursaunian king now displays a different sort of interest towards the boy and looks in his direction. The boy is still eating, trying as best he can to use his fork. "Fascinating. Though for the light of me, I cannot bring myself to imagine why Lukas would give you someone to babysit—especially an _Altorienese_ boy."

The prince swallows and takes the king's words and tone into consideration. It is understandable that anyone should feel uneasy about housing an Altorienese under their roof: they are known to be savages who do not worship any gods, barbarians who have little to no manners, and swine in that they eat anything they can get their hands on.

However, as a prince and a dignified representative of Crodinia, Emil turns this around and uses it as his strength. "My brother specifically wanted me to have an Altorienese boy as my pet because he knew the challenges it possesses to train him. He believes if I can turn him—an Altorienese—into someone obedient and submissive, then I can take on anyone." He also adds, "He was a prisoner of war. Just yesterday, had you been awake to see him, you would not have recognized him because of all the filth."

Francis gives the prince some recognition and praise for his efforts. He also adds that while no Altorienese boy can ever trick him into believing he is royalty, he admits he will have never assumed he was anything lower than a lord's son by his looks alone. The prince's heart swells with pride when Roderich eventually agrees.

"Your brother might be right, you know, Emil," Francis says before he takes his leave. "Raising you to become what you are can be similar to raising a kingdom—if only you know just how."

The prince's eyes grow wide and hungry to know. "Please, Your Highness, might you tell me what those traits are?" His answer comes in the form of a head patting as the Dotriban king chuckles and kneels to his level. In this moment the prince remembers he is still a child in the kings' eyes no matter how old he is, and a child he might always remain.

"Little Emil, that is something you need to figure out for yourself," he whispers. "But I will tell you this: it is not the results that you yield that make you a good king—it is the process."

"The process," the prince quietly repeats.

"Yes, Emil," Francis smiles and ruffles his mop of white hair. He then takes his leave and announces to Roderich and the prince that if anyone needs him, he will be out looking at the garden searching for something hopefully more beautiful than the flowers.

The prince is too naïve to understand what he is referring to, but whatever it is, it makes Roderich's eyes roll.

"That lustful fool," he groans and rubs his temples. He is ready to leave, too, but before exiting the great hall, he gives the prince a look and then his pet. His words are not as wise or meaningful as Francis' but he does leave the prince with something.

"Well, then. Emil, I wish you luck on training your…pet."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he thanks him and gives a nod his way. His eyes remain on the Thursaunian king until he disappears from view. Knowing how much of a music enthusiast he is, the prince makes a guess that he will be traveling to the music chambers to endorse in his hobbies.

Once the last of royalty is gone, the prince lets out a huge breath of relief and returns to his pet. Leon has since finished all of his food, and looks expectantly at the prince as if he will give him more.

The prince points to his pet's empty plate and asks him if he would like more. Surprisingly, the boy nods as if he understands him, and the prince eagerly fetches a new plate of food. As he watches his pet eat, he thinks of the next time the kings will visit the castle and see how groomed and civilized his pet will become. He cannot wait to show Leon to them.

* * *

The kings (and queen) return from their hunt three hours after the first bugle sounds off into the forest. The excited subjects run out to greet their rulers with water and encouraging words of their hunt. The prince and his pet are also among the crowd, surveying the banners and horses for Lukas and Mathias.

"There," he says and points his brother and the king out for his pet. "My brother, Lukas, and the king, Mathias, are over there. You can always tell who the king of Crodinia is because of his hair. Always his hair if not his loud voice."

"Good hunt, everyone!" Mathias congratulates everyone in a piercing voice. Next to him is Gilbert, another king of Dotriba, and Elizabeta, Roderich's wife and wild queen, squabbling over who shot the biggest stag.

"Are you crazy, woman? That was _my_ arrow that hit the stag in his throat!" Gilbert shouts even louder than Mathias due to his rising temper.

"And it was _my_ arrow that buried into the stag's leg that caused him to lag and trip, making it possible to even shoot into his throat in the first place, imbecile," Elizabeta throws back.

"Those two," the prince slightly frowns, casting developing wrinkles into his otherwise porcelain cheek lines. The rivalry between Gilbert and Elizabeta can be dated all the way back when they were children. Being part of neighboring members of royalty, the two somehow found themselves attending royal conferences and fighting to pass the time. How they manage to stay so competitive and bitter at one another is a mystery to everyone.

After the game is taken into the butchery, the prince and his pet rejoin his brother who still has sweat violently beading down his forehead. His usually wavy blonde hair clings against his neck, and his breath is short and labored from the long morning. When his face angles in the sun at the right moment, one can see his skin shimmering with a layer of moisture.

"Brother, how was the hunt?" the prince asks while he changes out of his dusty cape.

"I might have called it perfect had it not been for the quarreling between Elizabeta and Gilbert," he pants and wipes the sweat from his brow. "Ah. Your pet is looking more presentable today."

"Thank you," the prince says, trying to mask his pride at the compliment.

"Have you given him a name?"

"Leon."

"Leon," his brother repeats. "That is a Tabrinish name. Interesting choice."

Shaking his head, the prince clarifies, "You're mistaken. He _told_ me his name is Leon."

His brother pauses and glares suspiciously at the boy whose head is bowed. Whether Leon does this because he is accustomed to it or because he wants to shield his eyes from the sunlight is unknown to him, but to the prince's brother, it appears as though he is avoiding confrontation. Emil, seeing his brother's dark expression, grows uneasy and initially believes he has done something wrong until one of the kings walks over to greet them.

"Lovely day for a stroll, isn't it, you two?" he smiles with a bright grin equivalent to the radiance of the sun. His skin noticeably darker than any members of royalty here, the prince easily recognizes who it is.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he acknowledges the third king of Dotriba, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, known as the Golden King. The prince is grateful for his presence, as it distracts his brother enough that his dark expression dissolves.

"It truly is a lovely day, Your Highness," the prince's brother agrees. "Forgive us for the unusual change in weather. Crodinia is not, and will never be, as warm and sun-basked as Dotriba."

"Not at all!" the Golden King continues to grin. "I think it's amazing how you can have snow in the summertime!"

Lukas offers the king a soft smile. "I believe as long as you remain in power, your smile will melt away any snow that tries to befall your kingdom."

The prince closely observes his brother's posture, his fleeting expressions, his tone of voice, and his aura. His brother ability to command with grace and strength never fails to amaze him. Though the prince dreads the day when he will have to conduct the same air, his brother's ease at which he transitions and represents himself as his king's husband is astounding.

"I think after this, I'm going to take a nap," the Golden King announces quite casually, akin to Crodinia's own king.

The prince's brother understandably nods and tells him it is wise to get rest before his voyage back to Dotriba. While the whole Unity of Dotriba neighbors Crodinia, Antonio reigns in the southernmost kingdom next to warmer waters and clearer skies. His journey will be the longest out of the three kings returning home.

The prince watches the conversation continue until Gilbert calls Antonio to find Francis so they may return to Dotriba. As it seems, Gilbert made a wager with Elizabeta, claiming he will be able to ride to his castle before Elizabeta and her husband return to theirs. The distances vary in that Thursaunia is farther, but Elizabeta and her stubborn nature proclaims they will be able to make it back before Gilbert even sets foot in his kingdom. With Thursaunia producing strong and swift horses, the prince cannot predict who will be the victor.

"Brother, I will be leaving you and _Leon _to your own activities," the prince's brother says and pats him on his head. "I need to change out of this thing. Try not to get into any trouble with your pet. If you see any kings, remember to treat them kindly."

"Of course," he replies and bids his brother good day. The rest of the hunters dissipate, too, and soon, the prince and his pet are the only ones idling in the fields.

With the noise dying down, the prince takes a deep breath of brisk summer air and cranes his head to the sky. The gray clouds are slowly moving away, and soon, it will be time for the real summer. He hopes by then, there will not be any snow so that he might go exploring in the forests on foot.

"…Gilbert? Gilbert, you mongrel! What are you still doing here?!"

Alarmed, the prince turns his head just in time to see Elizabeta storming in his direction. The wild Thursaunian queen wields a threatening stare as she stops in place, her large green eyes bearing shock at the prince.

"Oh my goodness, it's just you, Emil," she says, softening her voice and eyes. "My mistake. It's not every day you see someone with the same color of hair as that rambunctious idiot of a king." She quickly adds, "Not that you are anything like Gilbert. You are positively adorable. I wish more boys were like you."

The way in which she addresses the prince so informally bothers him, but he sets his emotions aside as he must remember she is a queen.

"Did you by any chance see Roderich?" she inquires. "I need to beat that albino idiot back home, and if I leave without my husband, I fear he will wind up somewhere all the way in Tabrini. He has a very poor sense of direction, you see."

"I-I would have never imagined," the prince picks his words. "But I did eat with him in the great hall during breakfast. I last saw him headed for the east wing."

"Oh, thank you, Emil," she smiles and kisses him on his head. The action takes the prince by surprise, as he has never been kissed by anyone besides his brother—and a woman at that.

"I-I…uh…not at all, Your Highness." He grows more embarrassed when the queen starts to giggle.

"Oh, you," she smiles and brushes the prince's messy bangs from his eyes. He does not know how to react. He does not enjoy anyone else's touch but his brother's, yet Elizabeta is a queen. He imagines resisting her will result in some form of consequence, so in the meantime, he stays put and lets her touch his hair.

"Emil, you're as red as a tomato," Elizabeta giggles. "If your brother wasn't so overprotective, I'd sweep you off your feet and take you home with me in a heartbeat."

Her presence is unsettling. The sour smell of sweat sticks to her skin, and blood still clings to her long, mouse-colored hair. How this person can be a queen, a hunter, and a doting woman all at the same time renders him speechless. He supposes in her presence, he should be flattered; the queen has her own problems to worry about, and yet she is distracted by how flustered he is.

Suddenly, something unexpected and unthinkable happens. Like a dart, a hand reaches out and slaps the queen's hand away. _Slaps_.

The prince's eyes grow as wide as eggs when a flash of dark brown hair flings in front of him. In a matter of seconds, Leon is standing before the queen in a silent stance, shielding him like a protective dog.

"Leon…!" the prince gasps, but before he can do anything else, another voice breaks into the scene.

"What in God's name…? Lizzy, what's going on?"

The tone is one of sincere concern, but in light of that, the owner is someone the prince dreads hearing it from: Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Without listening to reason, the wild-eyed, pale king of Dotriba storms over to the trio and immediately strikes out at Leon with his hand when something stops his midway. The prince is horrified to see that the clueless Altorienese boy has blocked the king's attack from striking him and frightfully commands him to stop.

"Leon, let go of him!" he yells, terrified at what consequences await the two of them for their actions. Not only did Leon slap the hand of a queen, he resisted a king. Such actions can result in punishments as far as death—and worse.

"You filthy swine!" Gilbert cries and pulls his hand free. "How dare you hold down a king!" He is about to draw his sword when the nearby queen delivers a firm blow to his head, knocking him to the ground.

"Cut that out!" she snaps and kicks him firmly in his gut. The king utters a painful groan before clutching his stomach in a ball. Had he been viewing this from afar, the prince might find it comical, but this is no joking matter. Regardless of what these two saw, the truth of the matter is that his pet dared to raise his hand against the royalty of two different kingdoms.

"He hit you…" the king moans with clenched teeth.

The queen crosses her arms and boldly presses a foot on top of Gilbert's white cape, soiling it with dirt. "And I hit you, too. Do I deserve to get punished, as well?"

After spitting, the Dotriban king reluctantly mutters a "No," but he is anything but forgiving to the prince's pet. As soon as he can stand on his feet, he looms over the prince and the boy. "Who in God's name are you?" he snarls at the Altorienese boy. "You're not royalty." He wrinkles his nose. "In fact, you're Altorienese, aren't you?"

"Gilbert, enough," Elizabeta says, but the king ignores her.

"Do you know where I come from, if you so much as make a _threat_ on a king, your tongue gets cut off? Do you want me to cut off your hand so you can learn your place?"

The prince's face is ghost white. His heart races in his chest as he thinks of how to solve this matter. He does not want his pet lose a hand, but he does not want to displease the king and queen. He feels pathetic, helpless. Here he stands as an adult, and he cannot come up with a solution. His throat feels dry and his eyes hot. He wishes his brother were here. He will know what to do.

As Emil's thoughts race, the king seizes his pet by his collar and pulls, threatening to lift him straight off the ground. The prince is ready to break both in spirit and composure when the struggle stops with another, yet graceful voice.

"Your Highnesses, is there a problem over here?"

It is Lukas. He has already changed out of his hunting clothes and into dark regal attire fit for the husband of a king. With his cold eyes watching the incident, Gilbert angrily throws Leon down and spits a curse. His hands freed, the king marches over to the prince's expressionless brother and jabs a finger straight at his chest.

"I don't know who that boy is, but he just struck Liz—Elizabeta's hand and resisted my own. I. Want. Him. Dead."

"No!" As soon as his outcry leaves his lips, the prince immediately regrets it. Gilbert reels around and glares furious red daggers at both the prince and his pet with a murderous light. The prince realizes he must act quickly if he is to save his face and his pet.

"P-Please, Your Highness," the prince stutters, "Leon is my pet. He's my responsibility. He doesn't speak anything other than Altorienese, honest. He didn't know the two of you were royalty, and he was only acting in his best interests to protect me. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

The prince's brother steps in before Gilbert has any time to consider what sort of punishment will entail. "Kings do not punish princes in this kingdom, I'm afraid. When someone of royal blood has done wrong, the burdens fall upon another. However, I imagine you want them to receive punishments first-handedly. Please state what punishment you believe they deserve, and I will punish both Emil and Leon accordingly to whatever you will have wished upon them."

Tears threatening to escape his eyes, the prince holds his breath and lowers his head in shame. This has not been the only time a similar sentence has been carried out. Servants and advisors are always the ones to take the burden, and if not them, it is always people who are close to the prince. The logic goes that whoever influences the prince's behavior in some form must also bear responsibility. If the prince steps out of line in mannerisms, his tutors receive an appropriate number of lashes. Should the prince fail to look presentable even when he dresses himself, the servants and maids are branded and beaten. And these are just for the prince. Fear overtakes him when he imagines what will become of his pet. Leon is not royalty, so regardless of how much he protests, there is no doubt that his pet will directly receive his punishment regardless.

"For the prince being irresponsible, fifty strikes across his palms and twenty on his bare back," the Dotriban king coldly states. The prince winces despite knowing it will not be him who receives the beating. "For his _pet_, a sufferable and painful death by placing him in a barrel of glass and needles and getting dragged by two horses until he bleeds dry."

The prince's brother bears no visible disturbance to the king's harsh words. Even as he speaks, he is calm and collected. "Very well, Your Highness. I will carry out the punishments as seen fit."

"Good. And I will watch them happen."

"As much as I am flattered to have your audience, I should remind you that you and Queen Elizabeta have a little wager you need to finish."

The queen, who is still present, slaps Gilbert over his head again with a defiant swing. "He's right, you idiot. And when I beat you, I can't wait to see the sword you'll give me."

The once furious king's temperament loosens as his childhood playmate revives their rivalry, and all manner of cruel hostility dissolves. The prince wonders if this is because he is as big a fool as Elizabeta claims he is or just because he is quick to forget.

"Ha! So you think!" he laughs. "See who's laughing once I get your best horses!"

"Come, little brother," the prince suddenly hears his brother whisper. "Let us make haste and leave them. We have work to do."

"Y-Yes, brother," the prince shyly responds and quickly takes his pet's hand and drags him off. As they retreat into their castle, the prince looks back and sees that the queen and king are still bickering like two children without any responsibilities, completely forgetting about the entire incident.

* * *

"You disappoint me."

The prince flinches at his brother's cold words. He knows making an excuse will not solve anything, so he holds his tongue. What is done is done.

In all his life, the prince's brother never struck him, not even raised his hand at him. He uses a different method of getting under the prince's nerves through the sheer relentlessness of his will. Where the prince errors, his brother corrects him through self-loathing and suffering through his own guilt. The prince's brother expresses disappointment because he knows he wants his best to please him and make him proud; however, he has failed to do those things, and that, alone, is the greatest punishment of all.

Even so, the prince shamefully apologizes.

"I'm sorry, brother," he speaks in a glum voice. "It will never happen again. I promise."

"You wouldn't need to promise me anything if you knew what you were doing, now, would you?"

His words bore into the prince's fragile heart and sting his eyes. Biting hard on his lower lip, he fights back hot tears; however, try as he does, he cannot help himself as his pale complexion flushes red and his nose stuffs up and runs.

"Ah, Emil…" The prince's brother speaks his name in soft words and embraces him with a gentle caress. "Don't cry, little brother. You are an adult now. Be strong. Here, let me see your face." He lifts his brother's chin up to see his lavender eyes and kisses his forehead. "My dear little brother…what am I going to do with you? I still need to give you a punishment. Even if you were not at fault, anyone should know that it is a great crime to raise your hand at a king or queen."

"Yes," the prince agrees; his voice is muffled in his brother's shoulder as he buries his face deep within the silken fabric of his dark blue cape.

"Mm, I think I have something to cover your seventy strikes." The color once again drains from the prince's cheeks at the thought of having to be beaten. "The last of our guests will be departing this evening. There will be one more feast at dinnertime in the great hall; after that, I suspect there will be many dishes. Your job, after everyone finishes eating and leaves, will be to collect every last plate, fork, and goblet—every dish on the tables—and bring them to the kitchen where you will wash them—_all of them_. I want them sparkling clean, and you are forbidden to go to bed until you complete your task. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, brother," the prince replies, not even bothering to hide his unenthusiastic tone. "And…what about Leon?"

"Ah, of course. Your pet." The prince's brother does not smile, but with trained ears, he can hear a maliciously twisted tone of amusement dancing on his tongue. "I've already prepared his punishment. It will suit him, and I think it is as close as one can get with death."

Uneasy, the prince swallows. "You aren't going to hurt him, are you?" He makes a small whimpering noise as his brother cups his cheeks and slyly smiles.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he coos. "After all, he is your pet. I don't think you would like it if he was beaten and bruised, would you?"

The prince rapidly shakes his head.

"As I thought. But do not worry. You will both carry out your punishments at the same time, so until then, I will leave you to yourselves for the rest of the day. Ah, and if the Dotribans and Thursaunians are still here, try to stay clear of them. I recommend going to one of the less occupied places in the castle if you can."

"We will, brother. Thank you."

"Off you go, then," his brother says and gets up to leave. The prince suspects he is going to his husband to clear up any misunderstandings that might have happened during his absence. With that, the prince returns to his pet whom he left idling outside the hallway.

The boy is leaning his back against the walls when the prince finds him. He takes his hand and leads him back to his chambers where none of the kings will venture. He does not mention anything about his previous actions or the punishment he will be receiving; there really is no point since the boy's Crodinian is extremely limited. Even if he can communicate with his pet, he does not know what sort of punishment his brother has in store. Perhaps, he thinks, it is best not to know until it happens.

Until dinnertime, the prince decides to spend the rest of the day teaching his pet how to speak some basic Crodinian. He hopes that once his pet can understand the basics, he will teach him how to recognize the royal figureheads to avoid any further mishaps in the future.

When they reach the safety of his chambers, the prince gratefully closes the door and tells his pet to sit down. His pet obediently does so.

"Alright," he sighs and lets his mind process. "We need to teach you some Crodinian. It would be easier if I had an interpreter. Even a book would be nice. Um, let's start with the simple things. Like this…" He begins by waving his hand out to the boy and says, "Hello." To add to the Altorienese custom of greeting another person, he also bows. He continues to do this until his pet finally repeats the simple greeting.

"Hello," he says.

"Very good. That's a start, I suppose," the prince compliments him and continues to move on to other greetings and commands. They practice together until Leon can understand how to greet people, how to address himself, and how to respond to motion commands. The lesson takes up the remainder of the morning before the prince hopelessly gets stuck at forming sentences. Within the neighboring kingdoms are varying languages and grammar structures. The prince does not even know if Altorienese has a similar structure to Crodinian, and if it is does not, he will have a difficult time trying to get Leon to form sentences. Without any means of communicating any further, the prince finally decides to take his pet to the library to look for some books. Hopefully, there will be something there on Altorienese that does not purely involve foreign characters. Something with both Altorienese and Crodinian will be even better.

At the library, the prince requests any books that their castle might have on Altorienese. The librarian searches for any records and comes back with only a small book, barely thicker than the prince's index finger. Nevertheless, it is better than nothing, and the prince finds a spot to sit alongside his pet.

As he opens the book, he is delighted to see that there are conveniently both Altorienese and Crodinian words. The only thing that slightly disappoints him is the actual contents of the book: it is a children's book filled with Crodinian myths and fairytales. There is only so much children's bedtime stories can contain that can apply to real life, but nevertheless, the prince goes with the fact that they at least have a convenient book to utilize.

The first thing the prince does when he opens to the first page is point to the beginning passage and inquires if his pet can read the Altorienese characters printed. His biggest concern is whether or not the boy can read, but to his content, he starts to read aloud in clear Altorienese. He stops Leon shortly afterwards and points to the beginning again. This time, he starts to read aloud in Crodinian until he finishes the first sentence. He repeats the first sentence two more times and points to the first word again. He silently waits for the boy to repeat his words, and in time, shaky and broken Crodinian spills from his mouth.

"Very good," the prince smiles and points to the first word again. He decides his pet should master one sentence perfectly before moving on to the next one. Together, the two continue their reading session until the sunlight disappears from the library, and the great halls spring to life with the sounds of music and laughter.

* * *

Piles of unfinished food lies thrown and cast all over the tables as the prince picks up each plate and sorts them in different piles. He drags a sack around the great hall to fill with the uneaten and wasted food alike; he pulls a cart in which to stack the plates, utensils, and goblets in. The work is tiresome and boring, but the prince does not complain. Should he feel the urge to let loose his discomfort, there is no one to listen to him. Leon has since gone with his brother to carry out his own punishment. The prince asked about what his pet will be doing, but his brother remained quiet about it.

With the halls being void of servants and dinners, the prince feels alone in this grand space. He wishes his pet were here if just to keep him company as he toils through the night. Thinking about the boy, he starts to wonder how their lessons will continue. He will have to come up of ways to quiz him to make sure he understands the words he is reciting. The lessons are similar to how his brother personally taught him how to speak Tabrinian, one step at a time; however, Tabrinish and Crodinian have stronger similarities to one another than Altorienese—at the very least, both Tabrinish and Crodinian use the same alphabet.

But, alas, the prince tells himself he is being picky. He should be glad he has an opportunity to teach someone Crodinian. Altorienese will be the most difficult to transition from, he understands, but at the very least, he will one day be able to tell everyone of his accomplishments.

The prince's punishment drags on through the rest of the night when silence has indefinitely fallen over the castle grounds. All the servants have gone to sleep, and with only one set of hands performing the cleanup work, progress is incredibly slow. His brother visits on two occasions: once before taking a bath and again before he is ready to go to bed. Before retiring for the night, the prince asks his brother how his pet's punishment is coming along.

"His punishment is going along steadily," he answers with a soft smile. In the darkness, the prince cannot make out his true underlying expression, but as he recalls from before, it is not a pleasant smile. In such a way, the prince supposes, he reveres his brother as much as he does fear him. "I've checked his progress already, little brother. It appears he will not finish until well after you do."

"What is he doing?" the prince dares to ask. He dreads the answer he will receive, yet curiosity eats through to his tongue and speaks on his voice.

"You will find out tomorrow. I suspect he will be able to tell you or show you in some form or another." He sets down a candle and makes his way to his chambers. "It is late. Try to hurry up, so you can get some sleep, little brother. I will send a guard to check on your progress every half hour. Good night."

"Good night, brother," he says and continues scrubbing the plates. The kitchen is still dark, but the light his brother leaves him gives him the strength and the sight to steadily work until dawn breaks over the mountains and touches the castle.

When his punishment is finally completed, the prince's hands are sore and wrinkled from the great amounts of soapy water he used to clean the dishes. He checks his work twice to make sure he did not miss any spots on the plates and goes to the great hall to see if there are any stray food scraps. Everything is absolutely spotless. The prince is amazed at how long and hard it is for servants to clean the great hall. Even with multiple people working together, the task is not easy. He is grateful to be a prince tonight—or rather, this morning. Sunlight cracks through the windows above and pours into the walls. With the passing hours, the sunlight will draw down from the windows and sweep to the other side. His eyelids pulling down over his eyes, the prince hurries to find his pet. His entire body reeks of old soap and food scraps, and his hands and back ache from kneeling and dragging all of the food scraps to the dumping grounds. He wants nothing more than to take a nice hot bath and cuddle up in his soft bed. First, he needs to find out where his brother took his pet to carry his punishment out.

With the day being young, there are seldom any guards situated at their posts. It takes the prince some time to find one, and when he does, the guard is nearly half asleep and mumbling something about Lukas carry that "Alt'rienese lad" around the dungeon.

Fear overtakes the prince when he initially believes his pet really was sentenced to death like the rest of the Altorienese boys, but collecting his nerves, he instead thanks the guard and scurries off towards the dungeon to check on his progress. He arrives in front of the cold dungeon moments later. A cold, deathly wind drifts from under the gated doors to his ankles and chills him through and through. He was here not two days ago, and the memories of the layout are still etched in his mind. If Leon is where he suspects he will be, then he should not be too far away from where the prince first met him. And so, seizing the rest of his courage and alert mind, the prince asks two of the posted guards to escort him down the steps.

With morning nearing, the dungeon is as quiet as the outside kingdom. The prince hears no painful moans and howling as before, though his nerves are anything but settled. The walk is quicker this time, partially because the prince knows where he is going and because the familiarity does not hold him back from progressing. Eventually, the prince makes his way to an intersection. He is about to turn left when his boot sticks to something and nearly causes him to trip. The guards cry out in surprise, but the prince assures them he is fine. Still, he is curious as to what he treaded on. He does not recall that material being there before and asks for the guard behind him to bring his torch to the ground. With some reluctance, the guard obeys and kneels down with the light. What the prince sees sends his heart reeling into his throat.

Strewn over the ground like rusted paint is a long trail of drying blood that takes off from the left to the front, most likely towards the dungeon's outdoor entrance. With the entire space being so cold, there is hardly any smell, and the prince's body is so covered with the stench of food scraps that he did not notice the iron-tinged smell before.

The prince suddenly feels faint. He wants to leave this place, to run straight back up the stairs and lock the door tightly behind him. He wants to take a nice bath and idly drill his pet on some Crodinian words before heading off to bed. But Leon is not here, and the prince cannot go back until he finds him. Wherever he is, something strongly tells him that Leon's punishment has something to do with his fallen companions. The prince presses on in spite of his nerves, and tells himself that so long as he has a purpose, everything will be fine.

In time, the prince follows the trail of blood back to the source: the same dark dungeon cell that once held a dozen or more Altorienese boys cowering in their own urine and feces. The man who transported the boys is no longer there, possibly already dead and joining the others in whatever afterlife the Altorienese believe in. No one is needed to open the heavy wooden door this time around; the door is swung wide open and leading into a chamber of death. Cautiously, the prince pokes his head inside and tightly holds his breath. He sees nothing in the darkness, but he knows enough that the cell is completely empty.

"It's empty," he says out loud to confirm the fact for himself. He hopes knowing will help clear his sanity as he decides to follow the trail of blood in the other direction.

"Prince Emil, the sun is almost up," one of the guards says as the prince goes the other way. "Are you sure you want to linger here any longer?"

"I am sure," the prince responds and moves forward. His head is spinning, and his entire body feels like a collection of sticks supporting an iron ball. "I am here to retrieve my pet. It would sadden me if I abandoned him here."

The guards accompany the prince in silence for the rest of the way until the blood starts to disappear. There is no need to follow a trail anymore, however, as there is a door sitting at the top of a flight of stairs. The prince goes up these stairs and opens the door. Once he does so, a large gush of cold, fresh air blows past him and howls into the dungeon below. The guards behind him tremble a little, and the prince tells them to follow him further. He knows this place now. They are outside at the other end of the castle that stretches out into an empty landscape. Here, the vast openness of the lands makes it close to impossible for any escaping convicts to avoid being struck or hunted down. It is also here that far ahead into the distance, the prince sees someone's silhouette moving back and forth.

"There!" he points and heads off, his pace faster than before when he recognizes the owner's build. "Leon!" he calls out into the open. "Leon, it's me, Emil!"

The silhouette stops moving, and when the prince reaches the figure, he begins to recognize his pet's familiar sweeping dark hair and his broad shoulders. Finally, when he reaches him, he can see into his golden eyes and the blood caked all over his once wonderful clothes.

"O-Oh…" the prince catches himself. He looks at the state of his pet: worn, tired, and hungry. His hands are caked with blisters as he is holding a small shovel, its handle also rubbed and stained with a dried red coating. There is a pile of dirt next to him, and behind him lies what appears to be a large pit that is filled halfway with dirt. The prince swallows when he realizes what it is, and he is grateful that he did not have to see the contents buried within.

"Are you almost finished here?" he wearily asks his pet.

The boy silently nods, as he is too exhausted to say anything, or perhaps he does not understand his master and answers with whatever he believes to be appropriate. His work is almost done, as there is a small pile of dirt left to cover the pit. The prince is honestly surprised anyone managed to dig such a deep pit in the middle of Crodinian soil. The earth here is notoriously known for being so cold that it is impossible to plow and grow anything but the hardiest of crops. On top of having to bury his traveling companions, this punishment truly is analogous to death if not worse.

"Leon…" The prince's voice is worn and exhausted but sincere and forgiving. "Hurry up, so we can go back home. We'll take a bath and get some rest after this."

He is not sure if the boy understands him. His golden eyes that normally give off a warm glow are frozen over in an icy glaze. His face and hands are rendered numb from the cold and death of the other Altorienese. His movements are slow and rigid. Yet, in spite of everything, against the rising sun and nearby birds bursting into song, Leon nods to his master and works faster than before.


	3. His Word

**Chapter 3: His Word**

High gasping and strangling chokes startle the prince awake midmorning. A single name comes to his mind when he hears the familiarity of the voice.

"Leon." The prince rises from his covers and drops to his pet's bedside. He touches a cold hand against the boy's forehead and finds it beading with cold sweat. "Oh, Leon…"

The boy whimpers in his sleep. Like a frightened dog, he kicks at his covers, tosses and turns, and curls his body in towards his gut like an unborn child. The sounds he makes are anything but comforting; from his lips pour moaning and suffocating fits, the sources lost to the prince's imagination as something unspeakably awful. The prince's heart goes out to his pet. He remembers the feeling of isolation and seclusion; only, where he at least has his brother, the prince's pet has no one else. He is the sole person in the world he has now.

"It's alright, Leon," he coos in a soft voice. "Everything's fine." He places a hand onto his pet's shoulder and rubs it the way his brother did many years ago. His pet's episode does not pass over immediately. He shivers and jolts in his sleep long after the prince strokes him and reassures him in whispers.

"Leon, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise," he tells him. The boy finally falls back into a still slumber in time, and the prince moves his fingers to his cheek. With his pet's figure frozen in the rising sun's light, he can see the warm glowing complexion on the boy's face. He likes the color of the Altorienese boy's skin, a milky almond that reminds him of the rich nuts brought from Dotriba's ports. He loves how his pet has full lips that part in a small gap like two petals, and he wonders how they must feel on his hand. His thoughts wander to his brother and the king. Though it is royal policy for subjects to kiss the king's hand, the prince's brother has the privilege of being kissed by the king, himself. It is as justified as being kissed by the lips of the gods, themselves. He will not admit it aloud, but the prince wishes for this kind of comfort and privilege. He has desired intimacy of his own, too, and he wonders if his pet will give that to him.

Leaning quietly over his pet until he can smell his flowery scent, the prince brushes the boy's hair from his forehead and kisses the smooth skin beneath. The taste of sweet soaps and oils lingers even as he moves away and traces his tongue on the groove of his lips. Several times in his life, his brother kissed him to sleep and eased his loneliness. At that time, he and his brother were the only ones in their world. With the king taking him away, the prince cannot help but feel a need to fill that void, and his pet is the perfect crutch.

"I'm here, Leon." The prince's voice is faint on his ears, yet he still remains by the boy's side until he, too, feels peace come over him. His eyelids droop and his head hangs until he no longer has the strength to stay awake.

* * *

It is already well into the afternoon when the prince wakes to the sound of his pet stretching his legs and groaning. His eyes peer open, and he finds himself on the floor next to his pet who is just waking up alongside him. Careful not to disturb him, he rises first and stretches his back out. After going through just a few hours of sleeping on the ground, he cannot understand how peasants or even his pet can handle such conditions; his pet even has cushions and sheets for bedding and yet his back still aches, although he believes laboring with the dishes contributed to his pains.

"Leon," he calls to his pet and rocks him back and forth. "Leon, you need to wake up. We've overslept. Everyone will wonder what happened to us."

He stops as his pet makes a tired sound and shuts his eyes against the bright light. Again, the prince persists and rocks him even harder than before. This scene feels somewhat nostalgic as he thinks back to the time his king used to do this to him and his brother as children.

"Wakey wakey! Rise and shine!" he would say to his future husband. Those mornings would always end in a torn pillow and an enlarged bruise on the prospective king's forehead. But the prince is no king, and he certainly is not the cheery and spirited Mathias; he is thoughtful and considerate, so he waits for his pet to finish stretching before trying to wake him again; however, he does not need to, because shortly after stretching his arms, the Altorienese boy throws his eyes open and stares straight at the prince.

"Good morning, Leon," the prince attempts to greet him. He watches his pet with an innate fascination at just how bright his golden eyes look in the sunlight and hovers over him like a curious child.

The boy blinks and rubs his eyes at his master before uttering a shaky, "Good mor'ing."

"Good morning," Leon," he corrects his pronunciation. "It's 'Good morning.' You can say it, can't you? Good morning."

His pet tries again, and to the prince's delight, his pronunciation is far better than the first time. "Good morning."

"Very good," he softly smiles and pats his pet's head for positive reinforcement yet again. "Now come. We need to dress so we may eat. We've slept far too long, I'm afraid." As he rises, he helps his pet to his feet and picks out a select choice of attire for his pet. Today, he chooses a dark brown blouse with black leggings for his pet, and for him, an ordinary gray tunic with matching leggings and a pair of black boots. He checks himself in the looking glass before focusing his attention on his pet who, at this point, has no trouble figuring out how to dress into Crodinian clothing. When his pet is completely dressed, the prince takes his hand and instructs him to follow him to the kitchen for something quick to eat.

"I've already checked the time, and its past lunchtime," he tells the boy despite knowing he cannot understand all of his Crodinian. "We really slept for a long time, but you know what? I think we deserved the rest—you most of all, Leon." Halfway through the hall, he suddenly stops and gives out a little gasp when his pet lightly bumps into him from behind.

"Oh! Sorry, Leon. I didn't mean to stop like that without warning." He looks around the hall and then, finding it empty, moves to his pet and squeezes his hand. "Leon…are you well today?"

Though his Crodinian is still considerably limited, the Altorienese boy understands enough to grasp the concept of his question. It takes a moment for him to register the words and translate the meaning, and when he does, he replies only with a simple nod, as if speaking out will cause disturbance.

"Truly you are?" the prince asks; his hand still clutches onto his pet like a precious toy he refuses to let go. He cannot feel safe until he knows everything is well with his pet. He remembers the events after his pet finished his tasks. Exhausted and soaked with the vilest stenches imaginable, the prince ordered his guards to assist the boy to the bathhouse and dismissed them so that they could bathe in peace. Thrice he had to scrub his pet free of the blood and dirt smudges and whatever unholy entrails clung to his skin. A great amount of oils and soaps were used that night until the entire bathhouse smelled sickly sweet of flowers and precious spices. When they finally finished, the bath waters had turned gray and oily from trying to clean the boy, and even after that, the prince had to soak him with fresh water to free him of the strong smells and soaps still clinging to his body. Both the prince and his pet went to sleep exhausted that morning; during that time, the prince could not help but feel a sense of unease and dread at what his brother's punishment might have done to Leon. As far as he knew, the aftermath started to show in the morning when the poor boy began to violently shake and tremble in the darkness. How can he be a prince to his people if he cannot be a decent master to his own pet, he wonders? His pet says nothing is wrong, but he thinks otherwise. There has to be more to the events of this morning and yet he wonders if he can even properly communicate with him.

For now, however, Leon nods again. His face bears no expressions, making it impossible for the prince to detect any lies. He wants his pet to tell him the truth, but more importantly, he wants to gain his trust. He cannot do so if he cannot understand or protect him, the way his brother has done so many times in his life.

"Leon, if something ever happens or if something goes wrong, please tell me about it." His hand still remains clinging to his pet when he looks straight into his eyes and nods without a word. The prince takes this as his understanding and leads him to the kitchen for a quick snack; with them waking up far later than the rest of the castle, the prince needs to catch up in his own personal studies before finding the time to spend with his new companion.

One step at a time, he thinks and moves swiftly through the hall, giving a short greeting to those he encounters and shying his pet away from peering eyes.

For a late breakfast, the prince requests some bread, cheeses, and meats to be wrapped in a cloth so that he may take it to the study halls for quick portability. Along the way, he feeds his pet the limited items, and while he notices how well he eats the meats and bread, the boy is more reluctant to stomach the cheeses; the prince is then to assume there is no such thing as cheese in the old Altorienese Empire and is more than happy to take them for himself.

The pair arrives at the castle's study hall shortly after finishing half of their snacks. The study hall is a separate section of the castle that was built by Mathias' great grandfather after believing knowledge also stands in the same power as brute strength. He believed a king should have both strength in wisdom as well as muscles in order to rule Crodinia, and so, construction started in his reign and finally finished in his son's later years. The result was a grand extension of the castle filled with elegant columns and rooms dedicated towards research and collective exploration of the unknown. Here, scholars, scribes, and researchers come together to share their curiosity of the world and how to better it. Only the finest and brightest of minds gain privilege to live within the castle's study halls, and as far as all the kings and the people have been concerned, they truly are the best their kingdom has to offer.

As soon as the prince and his pet set foot into the study hall's grounds, they can feel a different aura than the rest of the castle. It is the same with the dungeon, dining halls, and courtyard: each houses a different type of atmosphere, and if there was one mood the prince felt the study halls gave off, it was intimidation. He never thought himself to have a dense mind, but he knows he cannot compare to the minds that have gathered at the castle. It is only understandable; those who reside here are given a comfortable life included with housing, food, and traveling privileges to go to different kingdoms to study different aspects, policies, and terrain. For such privileges to be granted to them, of course, the crown expects nothing but the best.

"We have to be quiet here, Leon," the prince tells his pet as they make their way into his personal study room. There is a place reserved for royalty such as himself and the visiting kings when they require somewhere to study in private. The prince visits this place when he has to exercise his mind in politics and foreign policies, areas his brother has always deemed important for ruling. The pair moves quietly down the corridors of scholars chattering softly among themselves or gathering in collective circles. Behind some of the larger doors, they can hear scholars discussing larger topics or researchers sharing their newest discoveries and debates of varying and colliding opinions.

Far in the middle of the study halls, the prince leads his pet to his designated room and opens the door. Normally he finds it empty, but today, he is surprised to find a familiar face lost in his books.

"Brother," he breathes and quickly gestures for his pet to bow. After he sees him do so, he inquires of his reasons for being here. "Why are you here? I thought you would be with Mathias at this time."

His brother turns and stands with an intimidating grace flowing about him. In contrast to his fair complexion and wavy light-blonde hair, he dons a large cape with a shade of blue as dark as midnight. The words that whisper through the kingdom and to the other alliances speak with truth: Lukas is the darkness to Mathias' light. Even without his king and husband accompanying him, he holds a definite sense of authority that can send even the most headstrong of subjects quivering in their place.

"How nice to see you, little brother," he smiles and takes the prince's face into his hands. While his hands are pale and cold, the warmth and affection he expresses towards his brother shows with how gentle he handles the prince. He kisses his brother and rubs his shoulders as though knowing exactly where his brother's aches lie. "How is your body? Not too sore from last night, are you?"

"It will take a few days to recover, I think," the prince responds and allows his brother to touch him. It feels different with someone else watching over him as his brother smothers him with affection, but he must remember that Leon is nothing more than a pet; like with the way he bathes him, he would not get embarrassed if a dog were to watch him and his brother express affection.

"And your pet…" His brother takes his eyes away from him and looks straight at the Altorienese boy's face, whose eyes are lowered to the floor and his hair concealing his face. "How is he faring?"

The prince moistens his lower lip. "…We had some difficulties this morning." He then notices how his brother's eyes perk up and harden their gaze.

"Difficulties, you say? Is it anything I can take care of?" He speaks with a thin edge in his voice like a dagger sharpening its point on the edge of a sharpening stone. If given the opportunity, he will not hesitate to strike out at those who threaten his younger brother.

Sensing his brother's overprotective nature, the prince quickly tells him of the details. "He just had some trouble sleeping last night, Brother. But…with the way he had to carry out his punishment, I wouldn't be surprised if he had some kind of reaction afterwards."

"And your pet…" The king's husband looks down at him with unrelenting eyes. He scowls at how indirectly he views him, and while not an animal, he does not treat him with the same formalities as his subjects. "…he hasn't hurt you in any way, has he?"

"No, brother." The prince can be confident in his answer to that question.

Hearing this, the prince sighs and touches his brother's head. His voice softens, and his gaze dulls its dagger-like stare. "Very well, little brother. If anything is to happen to you, you know what to do."

"Tell you immediately." The prince has gone through this song and dance several times, even over the most trivial of things. "You still haven't answered my question, brother."

"Ah, you're correct. Forgive me. It was looking for your geography book on Tabrini."

"Tabrini?" the prince blinks.

"Yes. Seeing as how you keep some books in accessible range, I came here first."

"And did you find it?"

"Indeed, I did," the king's husband smiles, waving his hand to the open book behind him. Open in a double-paged display is a large map of Tabrini's center-most province where the capital lies. The prince does not bother asking his brother of his research reasons, as most turn out to be unrelated to his life or simply uninteresting. Thus, he leaves his brother to indulge in his Tabrinish map while he searches for his books on politics. However, before resuming his studies, his brother converses with him one last time before heading out.

The king's husband closes his book and leaves it unattended when he stops to look back at the Altorienese boy with an air of suspicion. Sensing something is not right, the prince looks up from his book towards his brother. "Is there something else you need, brother?"

"No exactly." He stares upon the boy with a stern face and thin lips. Then, without any warning, he moves in on the boy and brings himself so close to his face that their noses can practically touch.

Not knowing how to react to his brother's actions, the prince can only stare in bewilderment as he looks on the unsettling image. The entire time, he notices how his pet conceals his eyes and hides behind his untrimmed bangs, never looking directly at the king's husband. It is not until his brother does not move away that he thinks to finally speak out to him.

"Brother, you're making him nervous," he tells him from his desk.

"Apologies, little brother," he spaciously says as if not entirely meaning it. "I just thought your pet smells and looks rather nice today."

The prince blushes a light pink as he takes this as a form of praise from his brother. It is not often when his brother directly praises him, so he takes it upon himself to find ways of accepting it in his own style. "That is…I bathed him three times to wash away the smell from his—his punishment."

"Hmm." The prince's brother licks his lips and moves away from the boy. "You did a good job, little brother. I don't smell any Altorienese scum on him." The prince winces at the way he refers to his pet's kind. Even though they have lost the war, he does not understand why others must treat them with such lowly regard. If anything, Leon has not done any wrong; he is just inexperienced and lacks the knowledge necessary to adapt to Crodinian customs. The prince will have to train his pet hard if he is to impress the royals one day.

"Thank you, brother," he says for now and lightly bows his head to him when he takes his leave. When his brother shuts the door behind him, he cannot help but feel as though a storm has just passed. He lets out a heavy sigh and signals for his pet to come to him. The boy obediently does so and moves to his side, just close enough for him to stroke his smooth dark brown hair.

"I'm sorry for that, Leon." He pauses when his pet looks up at him with his large golden eyes now revealed only for him.

"Sorry?" he repeats like a curious bird.

The prince smiles and pats his pet's head. "It means to feel strongly about someone else's misfortunes, sometimes to even feel guilt." He chuckles and brings his forehead to rest atop his pet's head. "I'm acting ahead of myself right now, Leon. You don't know what those words mean, but I'll teach you right after I finish studying. Does that sound nice?"

"Yes," his pet verbally consents and nods.

"Very good," he smiles and pats his pet's head once again. "Oh, and Leon, try not to look away when someone's speaking to you."

Having been taught those basic words, the Altorienese boy is able to grasp just enough to make out his order. "Why?" This is the first time he has voluntarily asked a question outside of their studying environment. The prince stares, fascinated at his pet's intelligence and looks upon him with a keen sense of pride, believing he has taught his pet well.

"Why? Well, because people will think you're being suspicious. They won't be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me, Leon."

"Trust?" he repeats.

The prince nods. "To trust someone means being able to put pieces of your life into someone else's hands and letting him take charge. Sometimes it can be your entire life that you trust someone with. For example, I trust my brother. I hope that one day, you will be able to trust me."

Though he does not know how well his pet's Crodinian has been coming along, something amazing happens. The prince's pet takes the words and their contexts, pieces them together, and forms a sentence with simple words—simple but powerful, and the prince does not think he will forget them anytime soon.

"I hope so, too."

The prince smiles.

* * *

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

"It a pleasure to meet, Highness."

The prince shakes his head and retries with a few words at a time. "It is…"

"It is," his pet repeats.

"…a pleasure…"

"A pleasure."

"…to meet you…"

"T'meet you."

"No. To meet you."

"To meet you."

"Yes. And then, we say, 'Your Highness.'"

"Your Highness?"

"Very good, Leon. Now put it all together. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

The boy struggles on his lips as he attempts to form the words without an accent. Try as he does, there is still a noticeable hint of Altorienese in his Crodinian as he smoothly recites the greeting.

"It is nice to meet you, Your Highness."

"Yes, that's it, Leon," the prince beams. "Very good."

"Thank you," his pet has been taught to say, and he says just that.

"You're welcome, Leon," is the prince's proper response. He makes sure he uses the correct responses to ensure he stays a positive influence for his pet, just like his brother did for him growing up his entire life. "Right, now do you remember who my brother is?"

His Altorienese pet's lips twitch and begin forming Crodinian words until they form a title. "Lukas Bondevik, second-in-command to the Kingdom of Crodinia. The Shadow." The prince then asks of his brother's husband to which his pet responds, "Mathias Køhler, king of the Kingdom of Crodinia. The Sun King." While there are several other titles to go by, the prince decided to only teach him of these two titles as a starter. Very rarely are their other titles used, and when they are, he has noticed how bored his brother and his king become of them.

"That's right, Leon. You're learning very fast. And what about me?"

To this, his pet says, "Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia or…Master?"

"Master is more suitable," the prince says, though he has not gotten used to it. Since he is officially Leon's master more so than his prince, he feels it only formal to have his pet address him as such. They are not entirely master and servant but form an odd relationship between companion and property. Still, the prince believes this is the best approach if he wants to draw a line between royalty and an Altorienese prisoner of way.

"Master, then," his pet settles on.

"Yes, Leon. You are to address me as 'Master.' Only royalty has the privilege of addressing me informally unless I say so, understood?"

"Understood," he says, trying to adapt to more verbal responses than mere gestures. With their lessons in greetings and courtesy coming along, the prince decides to stop here. He looks at the nearest clock and reads the time to be progressing into the evening. The royal hearings should have passed by now, and the dining halls are expected to be filled with newly washed dishes and plates upon plates of food. Today, they have made good progress, and the prince is confident enough with his pet that he uses few gestures and more words.

"Let's pick up these books and give them to the librarian," he tells his pet, and his pet begins to pick up the books.

"What do you feel like eating today?" he asks, and his pet replies with a list of odd foods listed in names that can only be pronounced in Altorienese. The prince warns him not to speak Altorienese in these halls, as some residents are still shaky with the aftermath of the war, and even the slightest hint of Altorienese presence might set them off. His pet soon apologizes and promises not to use Altorienese in public.

Music and festive voices fill the air as the prince and his pet approach the dining halls. Even after the visiting royals have left, there is still much merrymaking to be had in the land of Crodinia. In the center of it all is the kingdom's beloved ruler, Mathias Køhler, himself. His charisma and smile are infectious, spreading to even the most solemn of characters and sending them into a tipsy faze of drinking and joke-telling. The prince looks around and sees that his brother is nowhere to be found. For now, he takes a seat at his designated spot far from the rest of the chaos. His pet sits behind him on a stool and waits to be fed.

Since it has barely been two days since the prince has claimed ownership for his pet, he is unsure of what he enjoys eating. He grabs a sample of everything from the tables, stacks them on a large metal platter, and presents it to his pet in hopes that one of the foods will entice him.

"Just tell me which one tastes the best, and I'll bring you more of it," he says and returns to his seat. The prince, himself, does not eat very much and instead watches over the scene as the king laughs his worries away in the middle of his subjects.

"He's doing that again."

The prince almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden arrival of that voice. As soon as he turns his head, he sees his brother sitting next to him with a small plate of food in front of him. He is already snacking on a piece of grilled fish as if treating this entire scene as a normal everyday occurrence, but it might as be with Mathias being his husband.

"Brother, I-I didn't see you," the prince stammers and straightens his posture out.

"I was in the kitchen," he casually says. "It's too noisy here. Mathias makes too many friends sometimes."

The prince scoffs and looks at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "Where would the Kingdom of Crodinia be without him?"

"Trying to fend off Altorienese troops, no doubt," the king's husband wearily sighs and takes another piece of fish. He bites off the head and chews on its cloudy eyeballs until the entire piece is disfigured and unrecognizable flesh. "I just wish the idiot were more serious every now and then."

The prince cannot argue with him there. A majority of his life revolves around living in the castle with Mathias and his brother. He has still not adjusted to all of the king's erratic behaviors no matter how many days pass them by, whether it is his never-ending urge to travel and hunt or making up quirky jokes and laughing around new faces. At the very least, his brother will never tire of his excitable behavior however dull and bored he appears to be; the prince only wishes he can find someone of that caliber in his later years, too.

Mathias and the rest of his subjects chatter in the center of the dining hall until their plates are emptied and their bellies are full. The prince's pet has since cleared three plates of a select assortment of sausages and meats, and his brother has since sipped an entire bottle of wine. With his nerves loosened, the prince finds it easier to approach him with more dutiful matters than if he lacked alcohol in his system.

"So, brother, when will it be my time to attend the hearings?" he asks over a goblet of spicy cider.

Being loose in spirits and judgment, his brother presses onto his hair and ruffles it the way his husband does to the young prince. Then, he chuckles and kisses his little brother's cheek, leaving a faint waft of wine in his wake. "Little brother, you're supposed to attend them every day since turning of age. It's time for you to be an adult, and hearings are part of becoming one." He pauses to contain a spell of nausea passing through his system before continuing. "I'll give you a pass today since I know you were tired from last night. It's just understandable, little brother. I would find an excuse to skip if I were in your position. No harm done, right?"

"R-Right…" the prince reluctantly says. With how his brother can occasionally be aloof when drinking, he does not always know how truthful he is being. Just then, his doubts are washed away when his brother stands up and begins making his way down to the middle of the dining hall, carrying an empty wine bottle in his hand and dragging it down the steps like a sledgehammer. The prince watches with keen eyes and calls his pet over to see. Trying not to show too much interest, he points to his brother who is almost invisible in the crowd with how ordinary and quiet he is being.

"Look, Leon," he loudly whispers so his pet can hear him over the yelling and singing. "My brother's going to do something to Mathias. This always happens when he ignores him for too long."

His pet watches the scene unfold in complete focus as Lukas approaches Mathias, taps him on his back, get his attention—and smashes him over his stubborn head with the empty wine bottle. The hall explodes with laughter and applause as their king stumbles, regains his balance for a brief moment, and falls flat on the floor, the glass bottle shattered all around him and inflicting a protruding red gash on the side of his head. Some of the more sober diners show some concern for the king and his condition, but they soon pass over when they see how casually the rest of the diners react to this unusual event.

Lukas, too, is completely calm about striking the king over his head and bends down to pick him up. He easily does this with a single arm and shakes his husband like a limp rag before snapping his fingers at him.

"Mathias," he hisses into his ear. "King of the north. Get to your feet and wrap this feast up. This is getting ridiculous, and I'm tired."

"There's the couple we know and love!" someone shouts with a hearty laugh. "Always keeping each other in check! Ha ha ha!"

"Just like children," the prince sighs as his brother begins ordering the diners to leave the halls for the night. They have a busy day tomorrow, and with reports from the other kingdoms arriving in the morning, they need their full rest to last the entire day. The prince, too, decides it is time for them to retire and asks if his pet is finished eating.

"One more roll?" his pet asks, pointing to a single jellyroll filled with starberry jam and whipped cream.

"One more." The prince hands his pet the jellyroll and tells him to eat it as they retreat to his chambers. When they return to his chambers, there a fresh change of sleepwear is laid out on his bed for the two of them and a small mattress installed by the prince's bed just for his pet. "Here, join me, Leon." He takes a seat on his pet's new mattress and feels the cloth beneath. It is not as tall or as grand as his own bed, but it is softer and more comfortable than what his pet had before. Sure enough, his pet takes a seat beside him and feels the cushiony texture of his new sleeping area. "This is your bed from now on. I asked the head steward to arrange a better place for you to sleep. The floor, even for a pet, is no place for you."

He watches as the boy feels the coolness of the sheets and the spongy support of compressed springs and a sturdy wooden frame. Like a child bouncing on his parent's bed for the first time, he does not know how to react to such a gift and can only stare in silence.

"Well?" The prince moves to his pet and places his hand over his. "Do you like it, Leon?"

His pet is silent, and for a while, the prince wonders if he made a wrong assumption until he sees those golden eyes glowing with something he can only describe as gratifying. He does not smile when he speaks, yet the warmth in his voice is enough to melt the prince's fragile heart.

"Very much, Master. Thank you."

The prince smiles and kisses his pet's forehead. He prepares for the night, dressing into his sleepwear and turning on his snowflake lamp. Before going to sleep, he asks his pet if he wants to read a story to practice his Crodinian. Without any protest, he consents and waits for his master to join him in his bed after retrieving a book.

"This book was given to me by my mother," he tells his pet as he strokes his dark hair. "It's full of tales from all over the world, not just in Crodinia but places like the island kingdoms of Tabrini or the desert seas of Arbren. They even have stories from Altorien. Would you like to hear those?"

"No." Leon speaks with such hostility over that single word that it frightens the prince. The sudden abruptness of his rejection came out of nowhere, and he does not know how to properly react to his reply. Maybe it is because his pet has never rejected something from him before, or maybe it was not natural for his pet to answer in such a way, but he suddenly feels uncomfortable being close to him.

"I-I…Might I ask why, Leon?" he attempts to say.

His pet bitterly looks away from him and turns his head away. He is hiding again, the prince thinks. It is just like the time at the study hall when he refused to look directly at his brother.

"Leon, look at me." He speaks with a firm voice that commands respect and authority. He is not just a prince; he is this boy's master. It feels unnatural speaking like this, but he can find no other way for his pet to listen to him. He needs to ingrain in his pet's mind that he is still his property if nothing else, not a friend, not even a human being.

"Tell me why you don't want to read about the Altorienese stories. That's an order. And look at me when your master is speaking to you."

With some waiting, his pet looks back in his direction with a meek expression. Though he is roughly the same height as the prince, his pitiful state makes him appear so much smaller than what he truly is.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and this is the first time he does so.

Feeling guilty for using such a tone on a trivial matter, the prince easily forgives his pet and strokes his face. "It's fine, Leon. I shouldn't have ordered you like that. But I really do want to know why you don't want to hear about your own empire's stories." He can feel his pet hesitating even as he brings himself to speak.

"My empire was weak," he says in rough Crodinian. "_I _was weak. It's a time I don't want to…" He struggles to find the correct word. "…know about."

"Forget?" the prince whispers. "Altorien is a place you'd rather forget?"

The boy is confused. "What is forget?"

"To forget," the prince explains, "is to discard your memories of something, as if you didn't know it happened or existed. Some things are easy to forget. Others…not so much." He strokes the binding on his book. The grooves along the spine that make up the floral pattern are still etched in good condition. He remembers feeling the spine as a child and enjoying how the flowers popped out of the binding like they were real. At that time, his mother was with him, too, smiling and holding him close to read him stories told from all around the world, a world that he still hopes he can one day see for himself.

For now, however, the prince dismisses these thoughts and instead chooses to pick a different story. He starts with the first one, a story from Tabrini about two beings from two different worlds. "Here, read as much as you can, and I'll help you along the way, Leon." He sits and reads alongside him with great patience, explaining any new definitions or words proving difficult to pronounce.

The story consists of a woman and a man from different planes of existence, a man from Tabrini and a woman from the Deep Earth, where the Tabrinish believe all life originates from. Having never seen a living human before, the woman grew curious of the world of the living and ventured out to gaze at its wonders. The first living creature she saw was a man, and, being surprised that he bore similar traits to her own kind, instantly fell in love with him. However, she knew she could not leave her world permanently and so easily, so she began to communicate with him through his dreams, hoping that one day her wishes would reach him, and they could spend a brief moment together.

When he slept, the man would hear the whispers of a beautiful voice, calling him to a place. He soon found that the voice was calling him to a cliff where no man dared venture. The rocks below were sharp, and one little mistake could send someone tumbling down into the rocks or the unrelenting sea below. But it was here that the woman's presence was the strongest, and it was here that the man was determined to meet the owner of the voice in his dreams and set out to find her. When he came to the edge of the cliff, the voice spoke to him from behind. Excited to finally meet the woman, he looked behind him to find not a beautiful woman to match her voice, but a mangled figure with the arms, legs, and face of a human but also woody flesh, hollow eyes, and hair that fell in tangled vines and dying leaves. Frightened by her undead appearance, the man tripped on his own two feet and tumbled head-first into the rocks below. He was killed instantly, and the remains of his body migrated to Far Skies, where the Tabrinish believe all life travels to when it passes on.

Unfortunately for the woman, she could never go to Far Skies to meet the one she had led to his death. Stricken with grief, she began to weep until her tears turned into a river that flowed down the cliffs and transformed into a waterfall. As for the woman, herself, she remained frozen in the same spot for such a long period of time that she had rooted herself to the land of the living and took on the physical form of a tree. The Tabrinish say that the tree still stands there today, and at the base of its roots, waters as clear as the purest alcohol but as salty as the most bitter tears runs down the cliff and into the sea.

When the prince and his pet finish the story, the prince looks to his pet and tilts his head. "Well? What did you think?"

His pet blinks his eyes a few times before speaking, a common ritual by now as he tries to process his thoughts into Crodinian. "I thought they were both…foolish is the word?"

The prince stares. "Why do you say that? Why do you think they were foolish, Leon?"

"Because…" His pet's voice trails off as he attempts to carry his thoughts out. "I think…the woman should not have told him to come to such a dangerous place. The man was foolish to follow a voice so blindly. And he should not have been so—I don't know the word—easy? Soft-headed, maybe?"

After some deduction, the prince believes the word his pet is looking for is "shallow."

"You think he's shallow because he only had an interest in her voice, Leon, and not her character?"

"Yes," his pet replies. "And it's better that two people of different worlds stay apart in their own worlds. That way…" He lets out a short sigh. "…those who come out of that bond will not be shunned by both worlds."

The prince does not understand the context of the boy's words. At first he thinks it is his limited vocabulary that prevents him from properly carrying out his thoughts, but something tells him there is more to his pet than what he is telling him right now. He nearly inquires about it when his pet begins to yawn.

"Ah. You're tired, aren't you?" His pet nods and rubs his eyes. "Then perhaps we can stop here. You did a good job reading, Leon. I'm proud of you for learning so much so quickly."

"Proud?" his pet repeats.

The prince smiles and closes his mother's book, taking care to tuck it carefully back in its place. "To feel proud is to be happy after accomplishing something. I am proud of you because you were able to grasp so much Crodinian in such a short amount of time. It's been, what? Two days of lessons? And yet you can understand what I'm saying."

"I try," his pet humbly bows. "Thank you, Master."

"You're welcome, Leon," he responds. "But before I get ahead of myself, your interpretation was incorrect. The story is one of persistence. There are different versions of this story, and some are told in full romances. The lesson to be learned from this version is that even when there are those from completely different backgrounds, their impacts may leave an everlasting impression with dedication and perseverance."

His pet, however, still appears confused. His thick brow furrows with confusion as he listens to his master, and it seems as though he is still in disagreement. It could be that he does not wish to go against his master or because he lacks the vocabulary to state his rebuttal, but he does not say anymore and decides to go to sleep.

"I'm tired, Master," he says.

"So am I, Leon," the prince smiles and preens his pet's bangs. "Since I'm sixteen years old, I have to attend the royal hearings tomorrow. It's going to be a long day for me, so let's both try to get some rest. Does that sound nice?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." When the prince tucks his pet in his new covers, he goes to dim all the lights, capping the candles and lamps one by one. However, before he goes to dim his uncle's present, he hears a small sound coming from his bedside.

"A-Ah…"

The prince looks over his shoulder to see his pet sitting up from his covers and looking at the lamp with wide eyes.

"Something wrong, Leon?" the prince asks. He notices how reluctant the Altorienese boy is for leaving the chambers in complete darkness; he clings onto his blanket and begins to fidget with slight impatience—or perhaps it is fear.

"The light…" he says. "Don't take it away."

"This?" The prince places his hand on the lamp; even after having turned it on for an hour, its surface is decently cool due to his uncle's fine craftsmanship. "Would you like me to keep it burning for the night, Leon?"

"Yes," he immediately nods and adds on "please."

"Alright then." He leaves his uncle's lamp on and returns to his own bed. He settles in for the night and peeks over the edge to stare at his pet who is more than content with the lights being lit now. "Are you comfortable, Leon?"

"Yes, Master." His voice has since died down to a slur, and it only makes sense with the day drawing out with waiting and studying. Tomorrow might not be any different for both the prince and his pet, and it makes him ponder his role and the purpose of having him as a gift. His thoughts beginning to preoccupy his mind, he turns away from his pet and stares out his glass balcony to the vast valleys and river in the distance. The Kingdom of Crodinia is at a peaceful time, hard-earned and well-deserved because of Mathias' undying leadership and Lukas' cunning tactics. With things being the way they are, little will change: the prince will attend hearings, socialize with the royals and residents in the castle, converse with his brother and brother-in-law, and repeat. The only thing that has truly changed is Leon.

Rolling his head on his pillow, the prince stares at the ceiling at the lights. He has barely been sixteen for three days now, yet the lights floating and spinning in snowflake patterns gives off a nostalgic feeling that lulls him closer to sleep. Before his consciousness fades away, he turns back to Leon who already has his eyes closed. He calls to his pet in a soft whisper, wondering if the boy is already asleep.

"Leon…? Are you awake?"

His pet winks open an eye and moves his attention towards the bed beside him. Against the light of the lamp, his golden orbs look like two spheres of starlight peering through the darkness. "I'm awake, Master."

"Then can you tell me something? Are you happy here with me?"

"Happy?" his pet blinks.

"Yes. You know the word. I've taught you it."

"Happy…" his pet repeats. He closes his eyes and buries his face into his blankets, appearing as though he is meditating on the question. When he finally comes up with his answer, the prince's eyes have grown heavy and weak. He barely catches his pet smiling in the darkness before drifting off to sleep and hearing his final words.

"Yes, Master. I'm happy being here with you."

* * *

**Arbren: **Anagram of "Barren"


	4. His Piece

**Chapter 4: His Piece**

Tiny crafted figurines move across the board with wooden movements, never betraying an expression or a revealing hint of tactics. They click and clack against the playing surface with feet tucked together and miniature props held close and tightly. Each piece has a unique feature to its face and design down to the very oil paints used by the finest crafter. The board, itself, is worn with grooves and dents from accidents and frustrated players quitting not even before finishing the game. Should one touch the surface, that person would find it smooth and sanded from polished players and pupils alike. Here, two new players conduct their first game together with open minds and greater patience: a prince and his pet.

"The king is the most important piece in the game. The game ends when he is conquered." During their game, the prince teaches his pet the rules while incorporating Crodinian policies to help guide his pet's developing language skills. "Every king in the world has a title to call his own. The king of Crodinia, as you know, is called the Sun King for his radiance and strength. In the Alliance of Dotriba, there are three rulers: Francis Bonnefoy, the Iris King, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the Golden King, and Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Crimson King." He places a mercenary from the general's gambit and gestures for his opponent to play. "You met all three of them after the hunt following my birthday celebration. Over in the Unity of Thursaunia, there is Roderich Edelstein, the Teacup King; it runs as a joke because of how classy and yet fragile he is. We met him and his wife that day, too."

Before the prince can continue, his pupil asks a question in broken Crodinian after moving his general in front of his tower. "Do you have a title?" While a remarkably fast learner, Leon's accent is still noticeable, and the prince wonders if it always will be. Nevertheless, he makes do with what the Altorienese is capable of and works steadily alongside him.

"No, Leon. Princes don't have titles." He takes a pause. "But in his own sense, my brother has one for special cases, as you are aware of." Leon blinks and cocks his head like a curious bird waiting for a reply. The prince is more than happy to explain. "It's very unusual for there to be two kings ruling a single kingdom. You see, the kingdom of Crodinia is spilt into five provinces. I was born in the eastern province whereas my brother was born in the southern province. The capital, where we are right now, is located in the central province.

"It's always been that the oldest son in the central province takes the throne. Even though he is the official king, the other provinces have their own separate rulers who govern the lands in case of invasions or absences. My brother, Lukas, is the only son to the southern province. I am the only son of the western province."

He stops as he sees the look on his pet's face. It appears he does not understand why he and his brother have different rulers for fathers, so he takes the time to explain.

"My brother and I are born from the same mother, but we both have different fathers. Lukas' father passed away before I was born, and my mother remarried with the ruler of the western province." Seeing that Leon is satisfied with the explanation, he resumes his initial exposition. "When Lukas' father died, everyone assumed my brother would be the one to take over the southern province as the next ruler, but until then, he was too young and inexperienced. My mother sent us both to the central province where the king's heir, Mathias, was barely older than my brother. Everyone thought the two to be the ideal companions, and together, they could form a strong connection between the south and capital." The prince sighs and folds his hands. "I was only a child when we moved here—barely six. I missed my mother so much. I still do."

His Altorienese pet is silent. Being most likely an orphan, he does not have the luxury of thinking about his parents. At least the prince's parents are both still alive and well; even his brother lost his father. He should not be so greedy, he thinks, and quickly apologizes.

"Forgive me. I shouldn't have mentioned that. Returning to my brother, he and Mathias became close friends. You couldn't see it at first, but there was something between the two of them that even I didn't have with my brother." The prince swallows. "It turned out that that something was the love only two partners could share. When they both came of age, they married one another, and the southern province was assimilated under the central province's reign. Because of that, in my brother's own right, he is actually a king, too, but his title is different. He is simply called the Shadow."

"The Shadow," Leon repeats.

"Correct. He is the darkness to Mathias' light. While Mathias reigns in the sun's light and warmth, my brother gives orders from the hidden covers of his king and deals with deeper political affairs. The more power Mathias has, the more power my brother has, for you see, the stronger the light, the darker its shadow. That is the way Crodinia's ruling system works."

His pet blinks. "Do you have a role, Master?"

The prince still feels unused to the way his pet addresses him. Since they are on two different tiers, he felt it best to be addressed in that manner: pet and master, property and owner. Normally in the castle, he is addressed with formalities by the servants and doting words by his brother and his king. All subjects add on his title of "prince," and only royalty addresses him by his real name every now and then. To be called "Master" is new to him.

"I am supposed to take up rule back at the western province. Since the southern province is also overseen by my brother and my father is more fit to rule, everyone thought it was best for me to stay here in the capital so that I might gain more experience."

Leon tilts his head towards his master. "You miss your mother, but do you miss your home?"

The boy's Crodinian is developing smoothly. Even at his age, the prince was having trouble with Tabrinish despite the languages sharing the same grammar and characters. Already, Leon is able to understand basic phrases and grasp Crodinian characters and grammar at less than a week of lessons. He is truly amazing.

"Yes, Leon," he sadly smiles. "I miss the green hills and vast oceans. Though I was but a child, I still miss chasing the sheep and soaking in hot springs." He shakes his head. "But I'm being selfish. Given some organization, I can visit my home any time. You on the other hand…" He presses his lips together. "Do you miss your home, too, Leon?"

To his amazement, the boy bitterly shakes his head, a violent glow in those golden pools of his. The prince has only seen this kind of look on his pet's face once—the time he inquired about reading of his fallen empire's stories. It is a resentful look, an almost hateful one. It frightens him and yet it fascinates him. He cannot fathom where this source of negative energy came from; to pry into the Altorienese boy's past is his right, but he wonders if these are things that should be dwelled upon for any human being.

By restraining his biting curiosity, the prince refrains from inquiring any further into the boy's past and decides to return to their game. "Your move, Leon." He watches as his pet hovers his hand over his queen, thinking he might try to place an attack on his tower, but he, instead, makes an unanticipated move for his sage and places it straight in the attack line for his opposing mercenary.

The prince stares baffled at the Altorienese's decision. It is foolhardy for anyone to sacrifice a precious piece such as a sage and especially for nothing. Growing suspicious, the prince anticipates his opponent's next moves and tries to see if there is a trap waiting for him in the future. He stops and looks upon the chessboard. There are no traps to be laid. He understands this is only his pet's first game, but he thought his pet knew more than giving up his pieces so easily. With no better move to make, he places his mercenary into position and claims his sage.

"Leon, the sage is a powerful piece," he tells him with a stern voice. "You shouldn't give it up so easily. With the right strategy, it can almost be as powerful as the queen."

His pet says nothing, focusing his eyes on the chessboard the entire time. He then makes a simple move of placing a mercenary forward and gestures for his master to move next. The prince is about to see where he should act when a loud noise bursts into their private quarters.

"Emil! I thought I'd find you here!"

Completely startled at the abruptness of that loud voice, the prince kicks his leg out from underneath their playing table and sends the chessboard and its pieces flying all over the floor. He immediately goes into a panic, as both the chessboard and its accompanying pieces are invaluable antiques.

"A-Ah!" he gasps and hurls himself to the floor, examining each piece and making sure none of them have cracked more than they already have. "Mathias, you frightened me!"

"Did I?" The king's bright expression remains unchanged when he sees the calamity he has caused. "Don't worry about that, Emil. I can get an artisan to make you a new set."

"But this one…" the prince breathes with a tight chest and heavy heart. "…It belonged to Lukas' father."

The king has an unusual way of showing dismay. Instead of transforming his attitude into one of seriousness or solemnity, he tries to better the situation by using the optimistic approach; with the prince and his brother, however, it rarely works.

"I'm sure everything's fine, Emil," he chuckles and approaches the pair. He picks up a piece and turns it back and forth for any cracks or chips. "See? Nothing! It's just like it always was!"

"I-I suppose…" The prince looks at all of the dropped pieces and puts them back on the table. Meanwhile, his pet takes the chessboard, aligns it on the table, and begins placing down the pieces one by one. When they are finished, the king pats his brother-in-law on his back, nearly making him cough.

"Everything turned out for the best! No harm done!" As he stands there grinning, the prince feels an odd fire boiling inside him. It was Mathias' fault that he became startled and knocked the pieces to the ground. He was not even sorry about it, and why should he be? He is the king before he is Mathias to the prince. He is no longer the person the prince can tease or humor alongside. He cannot view him as an old friend or a fatherly figure anymore. Mathias is his brother-in-law and king of Crodinia. He cannot go against his speculations.

But what if something had been broken, the prince wonders? Then what? What would he tell his brother? That Mathias scared him into dropping the chess pieces? That would be bad for both accounts. It would be better to lie about it and say Leon did it.

"No, what am I thinking?" the prince silently mouths and squints his eyes as if it will blight out his thoughts. He gave Leon his word that he would not have anything happen to him on his account. His pet is his responsibility, not some scapegoat he can push around and order for his amusement. At least, he hopes he does not treat Leon in that regard.

Brushing his doubts aside, the prince stands to meet his king and speaks with him. "Thank you for helping me, Mathias. So why are you here?"

"Mm? Oh, I came here to see how you an' yer pet were doing." He looks at the Altorienese boy who has since set up all the pieces back on the chessboard. As with Lukas, he keeps his eyes hidden behind his bangs though he makes an attempt to look him in the eye. "So this is the one, right? And he's Altorienese?"

Worried for his pet's safety, the prince tries to stall any surfacing thoughts with questions. "So you just heard about my present?"

The king chuckles and scratches the back of his head where his hair is not as scruffy and unkempt. "I've been so caught up with other things that yer brother didn't get the time to tell me. Y'know, I thought it was weird that he'd give you some Altorienese guy, but this doesn't seem too bad. If yer happy with him, that's all that should matter, right?"

Even this surprises the prince. Normally, the king is insensitive or, at the very least, oblivious to any presumptions other than how awful the Altorienese are. The prince can hardly blame his brother-in-law, remembering the long nights he spent planning battle strategies with his then-fiancé and hearing the tragic news of good men and innocent people dying in the war.

"He did give me an Altorienese pet for a reason," the prince brings up. "It had to do with being able to 'tame' him." He knows very well that the Altorienese are considered property and slaves in the rest of the kingdoms, yet referring to his time spent as "taming" Leon disturbs him. A slave does not need taming, it needs breaking. A pet should only have to be tamed if it is anything but human. Where, then, does this boy fall under, he thinks?

"Emil, I've gotta say, it wasn't easy 'taming' yer brother," the king jokes, or at least, that is what the prince thinks he is doing. Royal birthright aside, Mathias has always treated Lukas as a good friend and spouse if anything. The prince cannot imagine the king ever trying to break his brother the way he is trying to teach his pet.

Since the prince does not give any response to this comment, the king decides to get back to his own duties, adding on a quick reminder for the day ahead. "Emil, don't forget we've got hearings in an hour."

"I haven't," the prince replies. He especially does not want to forget since today's hearings come directly from couriers of the neighboring kingdoms. Messages from as close as Belethren and Dotriba will be there, along with affairs as far as Tabrini and even Arbren. This will be the first time the prince can sit at one of the foreign policies hearings, and he looks forward to seeing what sorts of settlements his brother and the king have to deal with when they are not feasting or hunting together.

"Take care, Mathias," the prince lightly bows to him as he prepares to leave. His pet also bows until his face is parallel with the floor. The prince cannot even see his face until the king leaves and he lifts himself in an upright position. As always, he compliments his pet for remembering his royal customs and pats him on his head. "You did well, Leon. Shall we start another game? Maybe we can finish it before the hearings start."

His pet nods, and they return to their seats; however, there is something peculiar about the way the chess pieces are set up. Each one is in the exact position as they were in before the prince knocked them to the ground. At first, the prince thinks it must be a simple coincidence, but he soon remembers the position of his queen and the number of mercenaries he had left on the board. Even the pieces that he and his pet claimed are on each other's side in the same arrangement. The only possible answer to this phenomenon is that Leon single-handedly memorized the exact placement of each chess piece this entire time.

"Leon, you're amazing," the prince says with his mouth half open. "You were paying attention the entire time?"

To his credit, the boy just shrugs as though treating it like a casual claim and nothing out of the ordinary. "It's your turn, Master."

"Pardon?" he looks up. "Right. Yes, I remember now. I was about to move until Mathias came in." He stares at the board and looks upon it. His strategy has since been lost, and he takes a good few minutes to devise a plan fresh in his mind. He wonders all the while if his pet still remembers his own strategy and thinks to lightly bring it up in between turns.

"So, Leon, how did you manage to memorize the pieces?" he asks. "Did you learn how to do that somewhere? It's very amazing."

The boy's eyes wander to the chessboard as he places down a sage and claims one of the prince's mercenaries. "Something my father told me about," he mutters in jumbled Crodinian.

Now that the prince thinks about it, he realizes he knows very little about his own pet's history. He has been trying to keep it hidden away for so long that he never bothered to pry too much. "Your father plays chess?"

"Never did." His pet sits in waiting while waiting for the next move. For a brief spell, his entire body is as still as stone save for his pair of golden orbs that jolt and twitch as he reads the battlefield. The prince wonders if perhaps he has been trained in the art of war and strategy considering his empire was under attack for several years.

"There had to have been some way you learned." The prince moves a tower in front of his pet's general, ensuring his safety with his looming queen waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Again, the Altorienese boy shrugs. "My father just told me to keep my enemies close. That and studying. Lots of studying."

"Oh…" The prince watches as his pet suddenly brings out his queen and takes his general. His own queen is now prone to an attack from the opposing general, forcing him to sacrifice his sage if he wants to protect his king. "That was good," he mutters. "I didn't see that."

His pet says nothing and waits for him to enact his strategy. While doing so, the prince's eyes study the new playing field. He still has more assets, but the manner in which Leon distributed his mercenaries leaves him little room for retreat. Either he will have to take a brute force approach or wither in a slow defensive stance. When at last his pet plays his turn, he does not claim a mercenary that threatens his tower, but instead moves his own mercenary forward.

Perhaps, the prince thinks, the Altorienese boy is simply new to the game, and he takes the last of his towers with his mercenary. Through and through, they play, coaxing out their players until they are both forced to move their kings and queens to advance. The prince grows focused. He has played games with his brother and never won a fair game, but this is an entirely new kind of strategy. It feels like bait and switch: when he thinks he is winning, a new threat arises to keep his mind racing to reconstruct his plans. Eventually, he becomes so caught up in protecting his king that he fails to see his opponent's mercenary trekking to his field and reaches the other side.

"Master, my queen back, please," Leon says, holding out his hand to reclaim his queen that the prince earlier captured.

"…It's yours," the prince begrudgingly sighs and hands his pet the queen. He scolds himself for failing to see that little ploy. Out of everything, he was so focused on the important pieces and protecting his king and queen that he failed to see the mercenary sneaking its way over to his side. And worst of all, now that his pet has a queen, his king is completely vulnerable. With his mercenaries in the way, his queen cannot come to his king's aid in time. He stops and calculates it through. If he moves one way, he can buy some time, but the remaining sage will come to claim his king. Another direction, and the kings will fight with Leon's taking the other's head. Last but not least is the queen. She is too strong and expansive. Her area of attack makes it impossible for him to escape. Even after stalling, he cannot hope to win. He has lost this game. Leon takes this win.

"You won, Leon."

His pet blankly stares as it not looking directly at him.

The prince, while abash about losing, takes his king from the board and presents it to his pet. "Here. You earned it."

Tilting his head, the boy accepts the prize and holds it in his hands. This is his first win for his first game, and the prince is honestly awestruck. If this is Leon's true caliber, he wonders how well he might fare against someone like his brother. It cannot be just a fluke, he thinks, after seeing him place each piece back on the board in their correct places. Leon is a worthy opponent.

"Thank you, Master," his pet bows.

"Think nothing of it," he faintly smiles. "You deserved it. But we have to clean up now. I need to get ready for the hearings."

"Yes, Master," Leon responds and assists him in putting the pieces back in their case. When they finish, the prince leads his pet down to the entrance of the throne room. No one save for royalty, esteemed advisors, scribes, and the couriers are allowed in the throne room during this time. Leon is no exception, so he spends his time in the courtyard until the prince finishes.

"It looks like it's going to be sunny, so stay inside the shade, alright?" the prince instructs his pet. "Wait for me here. I'll get you when I come back."

"Yes, Master."

Before leaving, he leans forward and places a light kiss atop his pet's forehead. "I'm proud of you, Leon. You're very clever."

"Thank you, Master…" he can barely hear his pet say as he bows his head. "Take care."

"I will, Leon," the prince smiles at him and enters the throne room where his brother and the king are already preparing for the long hours ahead.

* * *

Much to the prince's disappointment, the foreign affairs are barely different than the rest of the hearings he has attended. Most local hearings consist of receiving more aid for plowing fields or lesser tax burdens on their villages to survive another year in the drought seasons. The foreign affairs hardly differ in that they are more glamorized versions of subject needs: a duke from Thursaunia wants the king to attend a party in celebration for his niece's wedding, Arbren wants to open a trading port from the western seas for easier trade, and Dotriba wants some funding and participants for a grand tournament they are holding in a months' time. Through and through, the king, the Shadow, and the advisors collaborate and consolidate together in order to come up with reasonable solutions to these propositions. Not all of them go smoothly, and some are declined altogether. In the events of all of these decisions, not once does the prince get a chance to state his own opinion. At this point, however, he is not sure if his vote will make much of a difference. He has knowledge of the other kingdoms, but without understanding how each kingdom works first-handedly, he is better off sticking to his books and maps than sitting beside his brother.

After the last of the Dotriban couriers are taken care of, the hearings undergo a recess before finishing with Belethren and Tabrini. The king disappears to consult with his advisors while the prince and his brother move to the side room for some privacy.

"How are you taking the foreign affairs, little brother?" Lukas asks when they take a seat in plush chairs better than the stiff seats made of wood and metal.

"I thought they'd be more…I don't know. Exciting?"

"Exciting?" his brother echoes with some amusement to his voice. "Silly Emil, being a king may have its privileges, but most of the tasks they attend to are normally anything but exciting."

The prince's expression falls. "Yes, I figured as much."

His brother strokes his white hair. "So what were you expecting?"

He chews on his lower lip. "I just thought maybe we'd do something interesting like helping build monuments from the war or trying to restore some of the fallen cities with one another. Or even travelling to the Otherlands. I was hoping…" His voice softens. "Maybe that's what it was. I was hoping for too much."

Sensing his despairing disappointment, the prince's brother takes his head and leans it against his shoulder. As he speaks, he fawns over his soft tufts in the same manner their mother once did for them many years ago. "Little brother, the kingdoms take care of their own affairs after the war. This is a time of restless peace. The kingdoms are still not completely stable yet. These things take time to repair. Even though we allied together to defeat the Altorienese Empire, the kingdoms still have trouble trusting one another—especially when Altorien attacked so suddenly. For that matter, we were doing it more for the sake of our own people, not for each other. That is why they do not bring up these things, and that is why the kingdoms are separated the way they are."

As he speaks, the prince's eyes grow heavy with the familiar touch of his brother's hand. He nearly drifts to sleep having spent his mental energy for the day and having to sit for hours without any exercise. He looks out of the thin window to the fields growing greener with the passing days. With the summer sun hovering over Crodinia in longer hours, the nights will end in the north completely, making for interesting vacationing and sleeping habits. A thought occurs to him that he might ask his brother for permission to travel to the north with his pet to visit his uncles. It has been so long since he last saw them.

"Don't worry too much about the restrictions, little brother," Lukas continues. "There are instances when we do settle trading affairs personally. And since you're of age, perhaps one day, you can come with us."

"Really?" Hearing this, the prince immediately opens his eyes and sits up like an overzealous child. "I'd love to…! I mean, that would be wonderful, brother."

His brother smiles and kisses him with a warm embrace. Beneath his thin, cold hands lies a burning warmth that only a loving brother can express. "I'm sure it would, Emil."

* * *

Shortly after, the hearings resume with the couriers from Belethren and Tabrini. Belethren is the first to go, listing off details of trading partnerships and negotiating deals. Most of the negotiations between the kingdoms run smoothly; Mathias is a good friend to Belethren's Tulip King, Tim Maes, and the two used to spend hours discussing trading opportunities with the other kingdoms using ports and new shipping canals. With some quick consulting with his advisors, Mathias settles on building a new port in his kingdom's southeastern seas so that Belethren might trade with them more easily.

When the decision is made official, Lukas turns to the seer of the hearings and asks for the Tabrinish representatives. "All of the Belethrenic affairs have been addressed. Bring in the first Tabrinish courier."

The seer summons the first—and apparently only—representative who has been waiting for a good three hours now. As he comes in, he holds a simple roll of parchment tucked in a simple leather casing, where the others usually brought with them bags to carts of documents to justify their propositions.

"This should be quick," the prince hears his brother mutter. The king then grants the courier permission to speak, and the throne room falls silent for him.

"Your Highnesses, Mathias Køhler and Lukas Bondevik, I am here on behalf of the Department of Tabrinish Investigations to bring you a message from the chief with a royal decree from the Kirkland family, themselves."

Mathias gestures a hand at the man. "Present your case."

The courier bows. "There have been mysterious raids on Tabrinish reserves built specifically for the Altorienese prisoners, consisting of pillaging residential homes and murdering children and women. As of now, the origins of the attacks have not been discovered, but there have been similar cases all over the island kingdoms. Further messages have been sent out to the other kingdoms, but with Crodinia as one of Tabrini's allies currently, the kings thought to send this message to you posthaste. This is a message bringing caution and concern should you be harboring any Altorienese prisoners and/or colonies. "

The throne room, being silent, hears a scoff from their king's husband and second-in-command. Lukas wears a disinterested expression after hearing the final message of the hearings. "Is this what this is about? Then we don't have anything to fear. We did not take any Altorienese prisoners to use them as slaves or any obvious colonies from the fallen empire. Those have been left and sold to the other kingdoms, and even if there were attacks, if the target is women and children, so be it. There will be less Altorienese scum in the world, but if you so want, then we will keep your kings' warnings into consideration."

Having said what most of the royal court thinks, Lukas turns to his husband for any lingering thoughts. "Have anything to say on the matter, Your Highness?"

"Nothing," the king says. "But Lukas is right. We'll take heed of your warning. Thank you for telling us and being so patient today."

The courier humbly bows to the royal family. "Of course, Your Highness. Serving you is a pleasure."

"Then you are dismissed," the Shadow says, waving his hand at him. "Your Highness?"

The king clears his throats. "I declare the hearings over. Thank you all for coming here."

With that, the courier exits the same way he came, and the rest of the court retreats into the discussion chambers. The prince's brother urges him to stay close and places a hand around his shoulder while they follow the king out of the throne room.

"Ah, what a day," the king yawns and takes off his crown and places it in its proper casing. He is always eager to remove his crown when he can, having always struggled to put the heavy headpiece on with his overly messy hair. "I'm starving. Lukas, Emil, what about you two?"

"I could use some nourishment," Lukas tells him. "And you, little brother?"

"S-Same…" the prince sheepishly admits. "But I have to retrieve my pet first. I'll join you in the dining hall, then?"

"Alright. See ya there." The king then leaves without another word, eager to get his mind off of the hearings and finally exercise after sitting for so long. Lukas, on the other hand, decides to escort his brother and follows him to the courtyard where the Altorienese pet supposedly is. Along the way, he chats with his brother about his progress with his gift.

"So how has your training been holding up, little brother?"

"Smoothly," the prince says with some pride. "He's very smart. I've been teaching him Crodinian."

"And how has that been going?"

"Very well. He has an accent, but he knows enough Crodinian that I can converse with him. And he is a good chess player. He…He defeated me on our first game."

"Huh." The prince's brother stalls in his response. "Perhaps he will prove a worthy opponent if he can beat you…or were you going easy on him?"

The prince purses his lips. "I don't believe I was. He won fairly."

"Maybe your instructions were good. But that aside, you are happy with your gift?"

"Very much, brother," the prince smiles. "I've never had a better one. Thank you."

"Not at all. Anything to make my little brother happy."

The prince continues to smile, and they walk together until they reach the courtyard, but much to the prince's surprise, his pet is not in the same spot he left him in. "That's odd," he frowns. "I could have sworn I left him right here. He's never gone against my word before." His brother is silent as he searches the courtyard for any sign of his pet. He calls out Leon's name, but when he receives no response, he begins to worry.

"Brother, I can't find him." His heart starts to hurt. He cannot imagine where his pet could have gone to not even respond to his voice. The castle is large, and if his pet got lost, there is no telling where he might have wandered off.

His brother fortunately has a calm and logical mind in situations like these and goes to the nearest soldier for clues. "Sir, my brother is looking for his pet, an Altorienese boy, somewhere around his teens. Have you heard or seen anything about him?"

The guard shakes his head. "No, Your Highness. I just came here for my shift barely ten minutes ago. I have not received any word of activity regarding that, but I will inform you as soon as possible if I receive any information."

The prince gets an uneasy sense of dread. It is just like the time he went through the dungeon to retrieve his pet on the other side of the castle grounds. He pet could be suffering again, and it is his fault. He should have been more careful and considerate. It would have been easier for him to take his pet into a safe place, and he scolds himself for not thinking things through. Most of all, he promised that nothing would happen to his pet, and if he cannot keep that promise as his master and a companion, then what good would he be for his subjects, he wonders?

"Brother, I'm so sorry…" His voices weighs with the burdening unease and concern for his pet. He wants to find him as soon as possible, even if it means tearing apart the entire castle to do so.

Sensing how distraught his brother is, Lukas places a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Shh, everything will be fine, Emil."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"Have I ever let you down, little brother?"

"Well, no, you haven't." He is being truthful about that, too.

"And I don't plan to do so now." He chuckles, something the prince did not expect. "Normally, I would let you look for him, myself, but I'm curious to know what your little pet has gotten himself into if he went against your word. It will be fun thinking of his punishment. What do you think is appropriate?"

The prince swallows and leafs through his thoughts. He has not forgotten about the night in the dungeon. His brother said he would personally torture and kill his pet if he so much as went against his word. He is certain his brother has not forgotten of the threat he made, either, and races to think of something before his brother settles on his decision.

"I will chain him," he quickly decides on. "Like a leash on a dog. If I do that and carry him with me wherever I go, I will not have to worry about him running off, and everyone will know he belongs to me." He also adds, "And no matter where I go, no one will speculate about him anymore. They will not think he is my servant or a companion. He is my pet, and I will make that clear to everyone in the entire kingdom—the world if I have to."

He watches his brother smile and run his fingers through his hair. He speaks with an icy pride, which he rarely does, but it does the job of sending an exhilarating chill down the prince's spine. "That's a good idea, Emil. If that is your wish and proposed solution then I will help you go through with it."

"Thank you, brother." The prince's speech becomes forced and rigid, but it is not often when he has the privilege of being praised by his brother, let alone earning a genuine smile from him. Having been humbled by his brother and his king's accomplishments, it is a great amount of honor for him to experience anything like this. With his brother following closely alongside him, he quickens his pace and continues their search for his pet.

The brothers eventually come up to one of the maids packing dirty sheets from the guards' barracks and swapping them with newly washed ones. Lukas goes to her first, inquiring about his brother's pet's whereabouts.

"I remember seeing some guards chasing a boy outside to the western halls," she tells him.

"What did he look like?" the prince hurriedly asks.

"Dark hair, red tunic…He was agile. They were shouting at him."

The prince's stomach twists in knots for the concern of his pet. "Did the guards look like they had any reason to chase him? Did the boy give him one?"

The maid furrows her eyebrows. "I don't know. They were just chasing him, telling him that he shouldn't stop running. Forgive me, Prince Emil. That is all I recall."

"It's enough information to tell us where we need to look," Lukas says. "Thank you."

"It's nothing but a pleasure, Your Highness," she bows to him and returns to her work as they brothers make their way towards the western courtyard. The entire time they walk, the prince can only speculate why the guards were after his pet. He never made it too clear that the boy was his property, but he thought that from his pet's clothes, alone, that it would be enough to tell anyone that he was not an ordinary boy. Apparently, he thought wrong, and the feeling begins to overshadow the pride he felt from earlier. He hopes that at the very least nothing happened to his pet. It will be on him if he sees any harm done to his precious Leon.

They reach the western courtyard where the sun is starting to set. With the western side of the castle reserved for combat training, there are few trees and landscaping and plenty of open space.

"It shouldn't be too hard to find him out here," the prince tells his brother as he looks around. He nearly begins to call for his pet when he hears something in the distance alongside the castle wall.

"…Yeah! Toss him over here! Kick him! Kick him!"

"Not so tough now, are ya, boy!"

"Kneel, swine!"

The prince's heart skips a beat. His blood runs cold as he runs towards the voices as fast as his weakening breath will allow him. It is only when he reaches the wall and sees what is unfolding that he finally stops, unable to handle what is being done.

"Squeal, you Altorienese scum!" One of the castle guards shouts and spits onto a groveling boy's clothes as another pins him down by his hair. Even when looking from a distance, one can make out the dirt smudges and wounds caused by knives, fists, and armored shoes. In contrast to the Crodinians' blonde hair, the boy's dark brown hair identifies him from the rest of the men tormenting him and burying his face deep in the mud like a rundown beast.

The prince tries to scream at the guards, but no sound comes out. His voice is lost on his choking lungs as he sees his precious pet being abused by the very men that swore to protect him. They kick at his pet and poke him with spears as if trying to taunt him into fighting; it will give them the excuse to put him down like any wild animal that threatens to resist them. Being caught up in the moment, the prince feels something run down his cheek. His stomach feels sick; his lungs want to burst. He collapses on the ground knees first, helpless to himself and his pet being killed slowly. Through his blurring vision, he barely makes out the dark figure that glides past him, brushes the top of his head, grabs the nearest sword from an unsuspecting guard, and runs it straight through one of their throats.

A fountain of red comes pouring out of the man's arteries as the rest of the guards stare appalled and in horror. The unfortunate man chokes and gurgles on his own blood, trying with the last of his strength to remove the blade embedded within his neck. In a dying attempt to stop the pain, he brings his hands to his sword and barely touches it before falling to the earth like a limp bundle of rags. The blood continues to pour out of his failing heart even moments after his consciousness leaves him for good.

"Y-Your Highness!" one of the remaining guards gasps. "What in Crodinia are you doing?"

The prince cannot see his brother's face, as it is turned away from him. Even now, when the Shadow speaks with the other guards, his voice sounds void of any life or sympathy for the man he killed.

"You make my brother cry, you chase and torment his pet—my gift to him—and you have the audacity, the _gall, _to ask me what I'm doing? Clearly you are not fit to serve the crown if you are acting this way to your kingdom's second-in-command."

"Your Highness, please!" one of the guards pleas. "We didn't know this boy was your brother's! We thought he was some Altorienese hooligan! Honest! Please forgive us!"

In a split second, the Shadow's voice turns from hostile to sinister. Every word that pours from his mouth drips like a dark, malicious sap that grows with every second he speaks and sticks like thorns to the ears it falls upon. "Oh, I'll forgive you all. Once your services end, there will be no reasons to hold onto my wrath towards you."

Without warning or hesitation, he pulls the sword from the fallen guard's neck and brings it flying into the eye of a guard. His strike true, the blade lodges itself all the way through the man's skull and comes out trailing with steaming red blood and pink, gelatinous brain matter. By the time he pulls the sword out, the last guard has already abandoned his oath and sanity. Frightened, he starts to flee when he trips unexpectedly. Even with his body frozen, the prince can still see that it was Leon who reached out and tripped the guard, giving the Shadow the perfect opportunity to sink his sword into the back of the deserter's neck, killing him within seconds.

Once all of the guards are dead, the Shadow releases the sword and lets out a frustrated sigh. "What a waste of resources," he speaks with an uninterested voice. "They certainly weren't worth the time to train and pay." He looks upon his brother's pet with distaste at the scene that unfolded. The boy's hands are sore and red, and his skin is drenched with sweat and blood from his wounds. His clothes have since been muddied unrecognizable to any royalty, and he looks completely defeated, all in all. "You're lucky, boy," he spits. "Really lucky. This is the second time I've saved your life. You should be grateful my brother enjoys your company so much." He bends down and picks the Altorienese boy by the muddy collar of his tunic and drags him over to his brother who is still fallen on his knees.

"Emil, stand," he instructs him. "Here is your pet." He throws the boy down in front of him and examines his fingernails. "Filthy," he mutters with disgust at the blood and grime. "Still easier than hiring an executioner. Come, little brother. Mathias is surely waiting for us. We wouldn't want the food to get cold sitting around here, would we?"

With shaky legs and an even weaker stomach, the prince eventually brings himself to his feet and gazes upon his pet. Leon stares at him with a calm look; it bears no hostility or hatred towards him. He appears to look at his master with forgiveness and relief to the prince and himself.

"Master, I'm alright," he whispers despite his weak stature. "Don't cry."

"Leon…" the prince sniffs. "I'm sorry. I should have been there. I couldn't protect you…" He hiccups and wipes his stream of tears away. He feels pathetic crying like this in front of his brother and Leon, but he cannot stop. It is only until his brother helps him walk that he finally dries his tears.

"Let's get you both cleaned up," he tells him with some exhaustion. "You're both a mess. If it's too much trouble meeting us in the dining hall, I'll send someone to bring you food to your chambers. Would you like that, Emil?"

The prince sniffles and nods. "Yes. Thank you, brother."

"Of course," the Shadow smiles.

As they walk, they hear another voice coming from the boy who Lukas saved.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Perfect Crodinian. His voice, while weary, bears no accent unlike what the prince mentioned before. He is learning quickly.

"Of course." The Shadow continues to smile.

* * *

The metal feels cold against his skin. He rubs it and tries to move it away from his neck so it will not touch him. The striking gold luster reflects against his eyes like a mocking reminder of who and what he is: an Altorienese dog—a pet. He remains still and obedient when his master approaches him and kisses him, every amount of it a pure reflection of his emotions. The prince cares too much for him. It can almost be considered a foolish kind of love, but he takes it for what it is and lets the collar stay around his neck.

His master whispers some Crodinian into his ear, which he can start to make out. It sounds along the lines of staying by his side. He allows him to stroke him and pet him. The prince is too kind a person to be a royal figurehead—and too naïve.


	5. His Game

**Chapter 5: His Game**

In the middle of the southern courtyard, cold metal and wood clash together in a match of ability and endurance. Here, the soldiers and guards of the crown train and sharpen their abilities, though the demand for improvement is not as high with the kingdom being at peace. Nevertheless, the king cannot resist a good match and often enjoys sword fighting with the younger recruits to test their potential first-handed. The prince and his pet are also here, watching the matches from atop the balcony and snacking on fruits imported from Arbren until the cooks finish their preparations for dinner.

"Nice swing, solider! You've got a good arm, so use it well!" The king's voice bellows out from the rest of the spectators watching him compete with the young soldiers. When he spends his time like this, with an attitude free of his royal duties, people forget that he is their king and more of a friend on equal levels. His charisma infectious, most of the new recruits are eager to get a first-hand experience at watching their king and mentor practice with such energy.

The prince grabs a red spiky fruit from his tray and tears it open, pouring out a mixture of sweet nectar and seeds into a bowl. He offers some to his pet and continues looking down at the matches from his comfortable position. "He's always like that, you know. He used to compete all the time with my brother and the castle mentors when we were children. It doesn't look like it, but my brother knows how to handle a sword, too."

His pet looks over to him. "What about you, Master?"

"I've never taken up a sword before," the prince admits. "My brother said I never needed to learn how to fight; he told me that my body wasn't properly built for such rough activities, so I've always just watched them."

The boy tilts his head. "You don't know how to defend yourself?"

The prince presses his lips together. "Again, I've never needed to learn. My brother's always been there to protect me, no matter what. He's made sure that wherever I go, no harm will come to me. For that, I'm grateful to have such a brother like him. Come to think of it, I never did ask if you have siblings. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Leon?"

Like with most things he asks about his pet's past, Leon simply shrugs and continues on with his casual observations of the match. As he speaks, however, it is clear that his Crodinian has vastly improved. His accent is still noticeable, but his ability to carry on a conversation at such an early stage in learning is remarkable. "I don't know. I suppose if I did, I've never met them."

"Why would that be?" the prince asks, curious as to why anyone would want to separate someone's siblings.

"During the war, it was just safer to scatter us around, I guess," the Altorienese boy vaguely answers. "I just remember moving around a lot."

The prince blinks. "But you were with your father?"

"Sometimes." His pet is hesitant to reply in such a way.

"Do you miss your father, Leon?"

This time, his pet answers immediately. "No."

The prince wants to ask why; he desperately wants to know, but at the same time, he feels as if he is treading into unfamiliar territory. As someone who has both of his parents and lives a comfortable, sheltered life, he cannot imagine what sorts of ordeals his pet underwent in order to be here. He is sure the stories can weave an adventure all on their own, but he believes those are for another place and another time, perhaps when his pet can trust him enough to freely tell him on his own.

"Alright! Who's next?" Mathias has since finished his last match against the knight. The prince thought the knight to be able, but he has known not to underestimate the king's abilities; he has an immense amount of energy that rarely ceases to falter even after his joints are sore and his skin and hair are soaked with sweat. When no man comes forth, a new, yet ominous voice breaks through the crowd.

"This is getting ridiculous, Mathias. Finish up here, so we can go back inside. You smell." It is the Shadow. Ever since that day when he killed three able castle guards, the entire barracks became wary of their kingdom's second-in-command. What frightens them most of all is how easily he dispatched his own men without a second's thought. It does not help that he is excellent at masking his facial expressions, lurking in the darkness as his title suggests. As much as it disturbs the prince, too, he understands his brother was only acting out of his best interests. This is not the first time he has been taken under the care of his brother's wing, relying on him so much; however, he has never minded, understanding that without his brother, he would be rather weak and helpless to the outside elements. For that matter, his brother means everything to him. Lukas will kill for him—and he has.

Even though Lukas tells him to stop, Mathias is not too inclined to listen to his husband. He insists he has the strength for at least fifteen fights, not including the ones he already won. With no other means of forcing him to stop, Lukas steps in and makes a statement.

"Very well. If you're so stubborn on your position, then _I _will fight you."

The entire courtyard stops in that very instance. For the Shadow to fight the Sun King will be a match to talk about for days if not weeks. It has been a long time since anyone has seen the two fighting against each other, and even then, there are few who have gotten the chance to see them. The prince is one of the only ones who has been given a privilege time and time again. He, too, is eager to see how Mathias will take this proposal.

"Lukas, ya sure yer up to it?" he nervously laughs. "I'm not gonna go easy on ya just because yer my husband."

"All the better to not hold back, myself," the Shadow calmly replies. "If I win, you'll stop with these silly fights and let the soldiers go back to their training. You have better things to do than playing around."

A soft wave of murmurs shifts around the spectators. From the edges, the prince can see some of the younger and more excitable knights running off to tell others of the match that might occur, and eventually, a larger crowd has gathered in the southern courtyard to see the action.

"Ha! I can't disappoint all these people!" The king sweeps his arms in a large, welcoming stance. "Alright, let's do this! Me an' you, Lukas!"

The men all start to cheer for the thrilling event. Both the Sun King and the Shadow are well known in different areas of combat to the point where they practically stand as polar opposites: where Mathias relies on power and speed, Lukas relies on defense and cunning. Truly this will be a match to remember. The prince is just as eager as the rest of the crowd that is still growing in size.

"My brother's stronger than he looks," he tells his pet with a hint of pride. "He's not second-in-command for nothing, you know. I've heard stories from veterans talking about how skilled he is on the battlefield. Together, he and Mathias are invincible."

His pet stares down at the two opponents as they choose their swords. Since this is still a friendly match, wooden swords are presented for safety purposes. Mathias already has his preferred prop in hand and waits for his opponent to choose. Lukas eventually chooses a light-weight sword with a slender paddle and a firm hilt. He weighs it out and decides this will be his weapon of choice.

"Hey, Lukas, if I win, I'm gonna go ahead with building that ship!"

"How very like you," the Shadow scoffs. "If you're that confident, then I'll take that as your wager."

"What ship?" Leon asks his master.

The prince rolls his eyes and sighs. "Mathias has been wanting to build a large luxury ship to sail around the world. Lukas told him again and again not to do it because it's expensive, and there are better things to do than traveling. In any case, that also means he will have to rule the kingdom in his stead, but everyone's certain Mathias only wants to travel with my brother, so he would mostly likely end up tagging along, too."

"Leaving you in charge," his pet concludes.

"Yes…" The prince's voice trails off. "But that is why I hope my brother will win." His pet falls silent and continues to watch. Sometime in between the countdown period, the prince points to his brother. "Leon, do you notice anything different about my brother?"

"Different?" the boy blinks.

"Look hard." He points to him below. "You'd be surprised at how many of his opponents miss it."

His Altorienese pet studies the Shadow until he thinks he has an idea of what his master meant. Nothing else can be defined about him except for one outstanding factor. "He's left-handed."

"Yes, that's it," the prince smiles and pets him. "My brother's always been used to fighting right-handed opponents, but it's rarely ever the other way around. Because of that, alone, he's won several fights. Even Mathias who's fought with him for so long is still unused to it."

This makes his pet completely focus on the match. As the two count down to start, the entire courtyard seems to hold its breath in anticipation.

"Three…two…one!"

Like a flash of red lightning, Mathias charges forth and aims for Lukas' shoulder. He moves so fast that the untrained eyes can barely see what is happening. As he approaches Lukas, he brings his arm back and swings forward, appearing to land a blow, but, at the very last second, the Shadow slips away with some quick footwork and arises unscathed.

From here, the match has begun. Two different styles and people shift and jab, taking little attacks at each other like poisonous barbs slowly whittling down one another. However many times Mathias attacks, he never appears to falter in strength or energy, but he can never land a clean hit on Lukas. Even when he manages to make contact with him, Lukas always brings his sword out to block his attacks. Other times, he will easily dance out of the way and strike back with quick succession, keeping the king on his feet. Neither of them makes any clear strikes at one another, but it is clear that both are closely matched, yet surprisingly different in personality and movements. Lukas is like water: smooth and adapting, yet bringing forth a torrent of unrelenting blows when given a sure window. Mathias is like fire: unpredictable and powerful. The two elements clash together in a fury of spectacular movements and skill, dancing around one another in harmonious chaos. No one can match them. In the horizon at just the right angle, day and night mix together in a fiery twilight. They are as two halves to a whole, light and darkness, the sun and the shadow.

The match continues for several minutes. Not once does it look like anyone gives way to the other. Mathias looks energized; Lukas looks calm. As they attack, every rally comes as a new lesson to the young knights. How they react to one another's attacks and respond continues to adapt and change. The courtyard is rendered speechless. Even above, the prince and his pet are completely focused on the match.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" the prince breathes, holding his pet close to him and stroking his hair.

"Yes, Master," the boy agrees. "Who do you think will win?"

The prince holds that question until he can properly assess the status. It appears as though the battle is finally starting to slow down. Lukas does not block as often as he did, and Mathias' swings are taken into shorter succession. It will be a close win, whoever will overcome the other. "I have no idea at this point, Leon. They rarely fight against each other, and even when they do, the results are closely tied. It's been so long since they've fought, I've realized." He sighs. "I don't think they've done this since the war started. After that, they practiced alongside one another, never against each other." He pauses when he sees Mathias falter backwards from a countering blow Lukas delivers. The crowd gasps as they watch their king stumble and fall from his feet.

"Is that the best you can do?" Lukas dryly sneers, circling his sword at his husband. "I've seen you last longer in bed, Your Highness."

The courtyard explodes in laughter. From the balcony, the prince covers his face as if witnessing something unholy and shakes his head. This makes the king clamor to his feet and lunge for another attack, striking even harder than ever; however, he is also less controlled with his movements, and with some patience and skill, Lukas blocks and dodges each swing. It is in a short window of time that he sees an opening in his opponent's patterns and goes for the final delivery. Sweeping his legs underneath Mathias' arm, he brings himself around to the back and turns to face him. With his momentum rushing forth, he guides his sword around him like a spinning gear and makes direct contact with Mathias' backside.

Taken by surprise, Mathias cries out and falls back on the ground, this time face down. He coughs up a mouthful of dirt and attempts to get up when he feels a strong weight pushing on his head.

"You lost, Mathias," Lukas snorts, aiming his sword at his king. "The blow would have rendered your arms useless. Now get up." He lifts his foot and turns on his heel, returning his wooden prop to its rightful place. With the match over, the crowd lets out a deep breath and congratulates the Shadow for winning. With the excitement dying down, they resume chatting about the events they witness and how to bring that into their own swordsmanship. Meanwhile, knights assist the king to his feet and bring him water and towels. He looks appreciative, but the prince can see his disappointed and defeated expression breaking through his smile.

"Lukas, ya bested me," he weakly smiles. "Nice fight. I thought I'd pull through, but ya won fair and square." His husband only huffs and snaps at him to finish up with the knights so they may eat dinner.

"Get yourself cleaned up, Mathias," he tells the king. "You're absolutely disgusting. I don't understand why you waste your time with those new recruits when you can help the professionals."

"Understood, Lukas!" the Sun King cheerfully responds and follows him into the castle.

"I guess he's not building the ship after all," the prince sighs with relief. "I think we're done here, too, Leon. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes, Master," his pet nods and goes with him to the dining hall.

* * *

Though he barely broke a sweat when conducting the match, Lukas orders the servants to prepare a bath for him before dinner. He never enjoys the thought of carrying away any dirt or foul smells with him during times of relaxation. After his bath fills, and the oils and salts are added, he checks himself in the looking glass for any injuries Mathias might have inflicted on his skin. He strips in front of a body-length looking glass and examines himself for any blemishes. While never appearing to care on the surface, he knows how much his husband enjoys running his hands down his flawless body.

"Nothing," he softly murmurs and makes his way to the bath when he realizes he is not the only one in the royal bathhouse. Stopping midway, he looks ahead at the white columns and searches for the other's presence.

"Fancy you only coming here just as I've taken off my clothes, Mathias," he smirks. From behind one of the columns, his husband steps out with a crooked smile.

"It's not easy sneaking up on you," he chuckles. "I thought that'd be my revenge for defeating me earlier."

"You wish." Lukas lets out a dry laugh and walks to the water's edge. He dips his feet in the scented waters before finally immersing his entire body inside. "I know you're not here just to play games with me."

The king laughs. "You know me too well, Lukas. But that's one of the reasons I love you."

His husband submerges himself in the steaming water until only his head is above the surface. "Are you going to join me or not?"

"Coming, coming," Mathias grins and removes his clothes, glad to be free of the stuffy tunic he needed to wear when training. As soon as he gets into the bath, Lukas reaches out and taps a spot on his back, making the king wince in pain. "Hey, what's wrong with you, Lukas? That—" He grimaces when more pressure is applied. "It hurts a lot."

Lukas' expression is unmoved as he moves his hand around a patch of skin that has bruised over. The entire area is already a dark purple, ruining his husband's otherwise fair complexion. "The place where I hit you needs to have circulation. It's going to take longer to heal if you leave it like this."

Mathias clenches his teeth and leans on the side of the bath while Lukas massages his back. "I know, but it still hurts. You're not doing this on purpose, are you?"

"The pressing, no. The hurting, yes." It is meant as a joke, one that flies over the king's head as he laughs it off.

"I'm glad you care about me so much—even if you don't always look like you do."

Lukas says nothing as he presses harder, justifying that it will help open up the damaged veins beneath. When he finishes, he pinches hard on Mathias' back, making him curse and reel around.

"That hurt! You were doing that on purpose, weren't you?"

"Yes." His husband rarely moves around his answers or remarks, cutting straight to the point like a knife even if it fails to sink into Mathias' thick head. "You're supposed to be the king of Crodinia, and yet you flinch at little things. What would have happened if we hadn't been using wooden swords during our match?"

"That's easy." He turns around and faces his husband, pulls him up to him, and kisses his lips. "We wouldn't have taken up swords against one another. You wouldn't try hurting me, and I wouldn't try hurting you."

Lukas exhales a steamy breath as Mathias pulls him tighter against his skin. His husband's muscles have always been more developed than his own despite following the same training regime since they were children. Rubbing his body against his chest, he leans forward and rests his head beneath Mathias' chin.

"Mathias, killing someone is not a game," he whispers. "Neither is our relationship." He feels his husband's husky breath breathing down his exposed neck as he kisses it, causing him to shudder and press onto his sturdy chest.

"Game or not, you know how much I hate losing," Mathias purrs into his husband's ear. He nibbles at the shell of his ear and runs his hands down the length of his torso until he moves in between his legs. His husband is aroused, and knowing that excites him. He makes more advances, kissing and touching him where he knows him best, fondling his neck and chest, while occasionally running his tongue across his creamy skin.

Despite how pleasant it feels, he knows Lukas is holding back. This is not like their bedroom where he makes direct interactions. His lips do not give in to his tongue, and he muffles his cries whenever he strokes his legs. Seeing this as a way of teasing him, he tries even harder, rolling his tongue over his firm nipples and grinding against his hardening member. The game continues until Mathias prevails, earning a sharp moan from his husband after biting his neck. His face red, Lukas pushes away with whatever strength he has and moves towards the edge of the bath in an attempt to leave.

Going after him, Mathias grabs ahold of Lukas' waist and pulls him back into the bath, splashing quantities of scented water all over the stone floor. "Yer not goin' anywhere," he smirks. "Look at what you did, Lukas." From behind, he prods his stiff member in between his legs, and tightens his hold on his husband. Lukas stifles a cry as he shifts helplessly in place. His breathing accelerates, and his entire body grows hot. It does not help that the bath is still steaming, and the oils make him dizzy and light-headed.

"Mathias—" He winces when he feels his chest being rubbed. "Not here. They'll hear us in here. The sounds echo—_Mm!" _Before he can say anymore, Mathias covers his hand over his mouth and nuzzles his hair.

"Let them," he whispers. "The kingdom deserves to know how much we're in love, doesn't it? Besides, I'll make it quick."

Struggling, Lukas pulls his head free, leans forward, and head-butts Mathias behind him. He gags in surprise and completely frees him from his hold, painfully clutching his nose.

"Idiot." Lukas clicks his tongue. "You'll dirty the water. I came here to bathe, not to play around before dinner. And it's foolish to do it underwater. You really want to see me in pain that badly?"

"No, I'd never harm you—not on purpose, anyway," Mathias groans from holding his nose. "That really hurt…"

"Good." By now, Lukas is on the other side of the bath, washing his hair and neck without any interference. The irritable sensation between his legs burns, but he knows if he keeps Mathias away, it will fade with time. For now, he continues his bath while Mathias recovers from his injured nose and anything else he damaged in the process. He soaks himself for some time after washing his entire body and gets up to leave, seeing Mathias still trying to fully heal from the incident.

"Hurry up and finish, Your Highness," the Shadow snaps at him as he dries his body off with a towel and changes into some fresh clothes. When he addresses Mathias as a king, he always means for him to be taken seriously. Whether or not Mathias knows of this has yet to be confirmed, considering he plays out things in his own way. "I'll bet everyone's waiting to hear about our match at dinner."

"Of course," Mathias sighs and pours water over his hair. With his hair wet and flat, he appears unusually plain, even to where Lukas finds it unfamiliar. He has never admitted to preferring his choice of hairstyle, but it is a feature that has since grown on him.

Before he leaves, Lukas turns back to look at his husband. A lasting thought trails in his mind as he speaks. "Mathias, I was being serious about what I said earlier."

The king smiles, a silent exchange mediating between the two. It is amazing at how one like him can rule a kingdom, and with such a burden weighing on his shoulders, he can still somehow manage to maintain his attitude. Crutched in between his people and his husband, the Shadow is always watching over him in the darkness, ensuring that his light withholds its strength and authority.

"And I was serious about what I said, too, Lukas: I hate losing."

* * *

Come one summer morning, the prince receives news from his brother. His brother's smile is not forced or masked; it is one of genuine well-being. "Little brother, I have a surprise for you. Here." He holds out an unrolled parchment with a ribbon still attached. The prince's heart skips a beat when he recognizes the color and fabric: sapphire blue in spun wool.

"Is it from…?" He cannot even finish his sentence. His chest is swelling as he takes the parchment with a shaky hand and begins to read the contents. His smile grows the more he reads, and by the time he finishes the letter, he cannot contain his excitement.

"Mother is coming here!" he breathes.

"Yes, little brother," Lukas coos as he kisses him. "It's been so long. I think she'll be pleased to see how much we've grown—you, especially."

The prince remains smiling. "This is all so sudden. I've not heard of anything from her for months."

"The letter arrived this morning," his brother explains. "Understand that her health is fragile, little brother. We wouldn't have wanted to pressure her into making any rash decisions unless her physicians permitted."

"Of course." The prince's expression dissolves with the mention of their mother's health. For years, she has battled with her delicate conditions. She had not even been able to witness Mathias' coronation or her own son's wedding due to the cold temperatures those summers ago. The prince, himself, has not seen her in eight years when his brother thought it best to take his mind off of the war and retreat further west. His thoughts race as he thinks of the things he will tell her in person, of the people he has conversed with or of his new hobbies and stories. Then there is Leon, whom he cannot wait to show to the rest of the royals at Mathias' party. For his mother to be there makes him even more eager for the day to come.

Even with this bit of news, the prince's brother is not done. "That's not all, little brother. You've long thought of going out to see the rest of the kingdoms, have you not?"

"Y-Yes…?" the prince replies.

"Thursaunia has invited to open its borders to us to discuss matters of a business alliance within its western neighbors. We will be visiting them for a first-hand experience, you and I, to determine whether or not such a proposition will be valid."

"An official visit?" The prince's eyes grow wide. "Why did I not hear of this in the hearings?"

"It is a matter of king and king," the prince's brother says, touching his head. "As the kingdom's second-in-command, I am permitted to hear of this news. This wasn't passed over to you or the court yet, but I am sure it will be brought up later today."

"Oh. I see. And when will we be going to Thursaunia?"

"Shortly after the Red Summer," Lukas tells him, "but I can't say how long that will last. Knowing Mathias, he will try to extend his birthday celebration for a week if he can."

The prince slightly smiles. "That would be understandable with him. Either way, I'm really looking forward to everything. This is a wonderful year."

"Indeed it is, little brother," his brother chuckles and strokes his hair. "It truly is wonderful."

Shortly after the prince leaves, he races back to his chambers where his pet is just waking up from his nap. He has since gotten used to his collar though it gets in the way of his long hair every now and then. The prince has thought of cutting it off, but he never had the heart to carry out any actions, as he enjoys the flowing touch of his Altorienese pet's dark, silky hair. As he approaches his pet, he sits on his bed and takes ahold of his hand.

"Leon, I have some good news," he cheerfully whispers. "My mother is coming to the capital for Mathias' birthday."

His pet rubs his eyes and blinks a few times before his vision clears up. When he finishes, he looks to his master. "That's good," he says. "You've been hoping to see her, right?"

"Yes," he sighs with exhilaration. "I can't wait. And after that, Thursaunia has opened its borders to Crodinia. I will be going there after Mathias' birthday celebration is over." He leans forward and gingerly kisses his pet's forehead. "You're coming with me. I want you to be there when we explore the kingdom. And it's not just any part of Thursaunia; it's the west."

Curious, his pet stares blankly at him, unsure of how to react. Catching himself, the prince takes the time to explain. "The Alliance of Thursaunia was established after Roderich Edelstein and Elizabeta Héderváry married, uniting two kingdoms into one. However, one could say the alliance is technically made up of _three_ kingdoms. The western part of Thursaunia was assimilated into the Edelsteins' kingdom long ago, but it holds a separate governing system so as long as they agree to remain under the crown. It's the richest part of Thursaunia, too. If we come to agreeable terms, I'm sure there will be an influx of wealth pouring into Crodinia's vaults."

The prince stands from the bed, walking over to his nightstand and taking his collection of fairytales to his pet. "Enough of that. Come, Leon. Sit up. There's still some time before my hearings, so let's practice your reading. You can choose the story this time." He hands his pet the book and waits for him to find a story. Already, they have finished a third of the fairytales with Leon's Crodinian improving with each reading. Today, he chooses a Crodinian tale and flips to the first page.

"The Horned Goddess," he reads the title aloud.

"Oh." The prince's face washes over in a distortion of troubled emotions. "This story…"

Leon looks to him. "Is there something wrong with this one?"

From the look on his face, it appears that the prince is reluctant to answer him right away. His eyes glaze over, and he chews on his lower lip as if anxious about giving saying anything. "This one is…How can I say it? It's my mother's least favorite story. It frightens her, that someone would go through such lengths." Right after finishing that statement, he changes his expression and stays firm. "But it's alright. This is a popular Crodinian story, and it can be interpreted differently. In any case, you need to work on your Crodinian, so you can keep going."

His permission granted, Leon continues to read the rest of the story. "The Horned Goddess" tells the tale of the goddess of all wildlife. She deeply loved the animals and the nature that surrounded them. One day, while walking through her forest, she found the dead body of a fawn, one that she had witnessed being born into the world only a few weeks prior. It had been shot with an arrow, skinned, and gutted for its meat, but the body and everything else had been left there to rot in the open earth. Saddened by this incident, she took the dead fawn's remains and sought out to find a proper burial place when she spotted some more humans continuing with their hunt.

The goddess soon came to the realization that countless animals throughout the land—wolves, elk, bears, whales, deer, rabbits, fish, and even mice—were not spared, for they were thought to be a pest on human fields. She could not stop the killings. No matter where she went, it seemed there was always violence and humans, bringing forth destruction and ruin wherever they settled. Before anyone knew it, including the goddess, herself, she had grown mad from watching her beloved creatures and friends fall victim to humans. However, she was bound by her nature to never interfere with humans directly, so, instead, she took it upon herself to protect the animals in what she thought the best way possible.

"She ate them," is what Leon reads. He pauses and stares at the words, furrowing his eyebrows at what he just said. "Master, she _ate_ them?" The prince nods and urges him to continue, and so, he does.

Rumors told of a fearsome goddess who would tear up lands and consume entire herds with a single gulp. As she continued to consume the animals, she grew into a great size, becoming a threat to the humans even when she never directly confronted them. She had grown to believe that by consuming the very things she loved, she would protect them from certain harm, and they would live inside of her as a single entity. It came to pass that she started to take on animalistic forms, growing wings of an eagle, the sharp eyes of a wolf, and the horns of an elk. She grew so large in size that it scared the humans away, allowing her to spread to other lands so that she might consume the animals elsewhere. In time, there were so few animals left in the world that the humans were starting to die out, too.

Angered by the treatment of the animals and the humans, the goddess' brother, the watcher of humankind, came to visit her. He had grown small with the diminishing numbers of humans, but he still had his sanity. He confronted his sister, telling her to stop eating the animals and sparing his humans the pain and suffering of starvation. But his sister would not listen to reason, and, with quick work, he took a sword of man-made steel and ripped open the belly of the goddess. From all over, the animals fled, running back to their homes for safety. With the goddess reduced to her original size, her brother went to her weakened state, and swallowed her just as she had done to the animals. He then took it upon himself to ensure that there would be enough food for his people, and he granted them the knowledge of appreciation. Humans were taught to understand that what they ate was once a living being just as they are, and they must only take what they need in order to continue living.

Leon finishes the story and closes it, eager to put away the book as his master reflects on his speaking skills.

"You did well, Leon. I'm proud of you." He strokes his hair and leans against his side. After every story, he asks what his pet thinks and learned from the story, though this time, his pet is not as inclined to speak.

"I can see why your mother didn't like this story." He stares at his master, studying his eyes as if searching for some understanding or support in his words. Since his master does not say anything, he tells him. "That's not what love is supposed to be." He stares at his hands and lowers his head. His golden collar falls from his neck and dangles in front of his eyes, weighing him down and forcing his head to follow. His eyes gloss over the luster that glints in the sunlight and waver at the flashes, recalling an instance from what felt like long ago. On a faint whisper, he thinks he can hear the sound of someone's voice calling out his name, before coming here, before accepting his position.

"A mother—any parent—does not devour or harm her children. That is not protection. That is not love. If anyone could call that love, then I can only think of what hatred could be." He tightens his fist over the covers and shakes his head, tossing his collar over his neck until it begins to cut into his skin.

"Leon," the prince starts and holds him to his chest. "Please. It's alright. I'm here for you." He digs his fingers into his pet's hair and buries his nose into his locks, inhaling his exotic Altorienese scent that smells faintly of rich lacquer and sweet spices that overpower his subtle speargrass and pine aroma.

"Master…" The boy shuts his eyes and leans against his rising and falling chest. His temper relaxes, and he eases the tension in his gut and mind. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

This is different. The prince hesitates, hearing a new kind of sincerity in his pet's tone. Normally, his pet thanks him and others out of formalities, but with the tenderness in his voice melting his heart, he feels something tugging in his chest. It can almost be considered foreign to him. The sensation disturbs him as close to nauseating but not in a sickly sort of way; this is warm, like how safe he feels around his mother or how lax he feels with his brother. Both frightened and yet fascinated, the prince brings his pet's face to him and kisses his cheek. The entire time of the exchange, he never lets him go.


End file.
